


SERE: Evasion

by Magpies_Treasury



Series: Survival, Evasion, Rescue, and Escape [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Birthday, Bullying, Character Death, Consensual Sex, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, John is a Bit Not Good, M/M, Minor Violence, Molly Is Patient, Murder, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Spanking, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape, Therapy, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 124,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5693110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpies_Treasury/pseuds/Magpies_Treasury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second part of a four part series, Jim struggles to keep himself isolated from everyone in an attempt to protect them from Magnussen. He discovers that this is not a game and his stubbornness in defying Magnussen will cost him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just a Little Break

Jim spent the rest of break reading every book that John owned, which wasn’t many, but a good number of them were medical books and challenging when he didn’t have the schooling to help him understand the material. Jim tried to stay away from John so he would read anywhere he could find, a lot of the time that ended up being his father’s classroom. As long as Jim was quiet and didn’t get into trouble his father left him alone. The day finally came when the cadets were meant to come back before school started the next day and Jim had packed his things quickly and quietly without saying anything to John. He’d see him around. Only two weeks until he could be emancipated. Boys were already arriving and his barracks were fairly full by the time he got there to move his stuff from his duffle to his trunk.

  
Sebastian spent most of the rest of the holiday sulking in his room, trying not to think about Jim or what an idiot he'd been. By the time he got back to school he'd almost recovered, feeling a lot better as the driver took him up north, chuckling as he remembered how close he'd come to agreeing to go to Eton. Probably for another one of Magnussen's crazy schemes. He arrived in the barracks in good spirits, which sank immediately as he saw Victor going over to Jim, chuckling and giving him a little shove, "Awww… did your boyfriend get bored of your arse? You spent all Christmas here alone? And now you've no big bad Sebastian to watch out for you." Carl Powers was watching them, looking calculating, and Sebastian determinedly looked away.

  
Jim didn’t see Sebastian come in, completely focused on the boy who pushed him towards the bed. He glared and tried to warn the boy off with his expression. He had nothing to lose now, the only thing Magnussen could do was hurt him and Jim’s father had seen to it that he was unusually well equipped to deal with that. “It’s the other way around, I got tired of him. I don’t need anyone else to watch out for me Trevor, which you’ll find out if you hit me one more time.” Jim’s face was still scraped and bruised and he had no problems doing the same to Victor if it would put him in his place.

  
"Oh yeah?" Carl stepped backwards quickly and stopped looking as Victor smirked and gave him another shove. "Looks like someone's already handed your arse too you over the holiday. Was it your daddy?" Another shove, "Does he hit you? Awww... poor little Moriarty." Sebastian turned quickly at the accusation, looking over at Jim, trying to work out if it was true, feeling a sudden sinking feeling that he still cared so much.

  
Jim was wearing the hard-shelled gloves that John bought him, Trevor must not have noticed because then he might have hesitated to get in a physical confrontation with Jim, who was much smaller than him. He twisted around and struck Trevor hard across the jaw and followed that up with a hit to the gut with his other fist. Trevor went down and Jim dove on top of him, snarling and hissing as he hit the boy over and over again. Jim knew he should stop but it felt fucking amazing and he didn’t care if Magnussen hurt him over it. 

There was a high pitched scream from Trevor as he went down and the boys surrounded them excitedly all chanting "fight... fight" as Trevor was repeatedly pummelled. He hadn't been expecting it and was incapable of putting up much of a defence, squealing and struggling as his nose broke, trying to protect his face. Sebastian didn't join the crowd around them, but couldn't help a grin at the sounds, feeling relieved that Jim could look after himself.

There was a shout from the door and suddenly an adult figure barrelled through the crowd, pushing boys aside and eventually grabbing Jim's shoulder and wrenching him upright, "Alright, break it up - what the _hell_ is going on here?"

  
Trevor got a lucky shot in at his mouth and Jim’s lip was bleeding sluggishly but he didn’t notice. He was panting heavily and was still so angry he thought steam was about to come out of his ears. Some stranger pulled him up, twisted his arms behind his back and Jim struggled hard, “Let me go you fucker. _Don’t_ touch me.” Jim hated being held like that, couldn’t get free and didn’t know who had hold of him except that it was an adult male and Jim didn’t trust them.

  
“I'm not letting you go until you reassure me you're not about to hit anyone." The man looked around, to where Trevor was crying on the floor, to the other boys who immediately dispersed and appeared very interested in unpacking. "You on the ground, get off to the doctor, and I'll see you once you're patched up." He warily let go of Jim. "You, little crazy firebrand, come with me." He looked around at the other boys. "I'm your new Sergeant; Sergeant Lestrade. I won't tolerate any fights in the barracks, is that clear? Now get unpacked."

  
Jim sneered and did his best to keep still even though having a strange man holding him from behind was setting off all kinds of fight or flight responses. He grinned fiercely when he saw Trevor crying on the floor, “Stupid bitch.” He sneered as the boy got up and left for the hospital wing. The new Sergeant – Lestrade, finally let Jim go and he whirled around warily so that the man couldn’t get at his back again or sneak up on him. Fucking worst luck, Jim hadn’t even really started it. He grit his teeth and gave the man a halfhearted salute before following behind him to wherever they were going to _chat._ Knowing Magnussen he’d fired the sergeant and replaced him with someone even more sadistic, Jim didn’t trust him at all.

  
Lestrade glared around the room and then marched after Jim into the small room he'd been given as an office. He'd only arrived the evening before, and was still trying to wade through exactly what was required of him. Still, he'd been a training sergeant in the police force and was hoping a school full of rich kids shouldn't be too different. He sat down, leaving Jim standing and looked up at him seriously, "Alright, sonny what was that about? I don't want any fighting in my barracks, particularly not the kind that leaves people maimed. There's enough people out there who'll try and attack you without causing trouble amongst your team-mates." He hesitated. The phrase was a stock one from police training and he mentally cursed. It worked on the force - where he was training kids for a job. If this was some rich man's son with plans on an officers post in the army, or of some high-ranking job, he'd probably not face an attack, particularly not in the company of his school friends.

  
Jim frowned as Leatrade brought him back to the Sergeant's office. He tried to cool down and calm down enough that he wouldn't get in further trouble over the fight. Leatrade wanted to know what the fight was about but Jim wasn't a snitch, not even on low life's like Trevor. "He provoked me. I warned him that if he shoved me again I would attack him. You might have noiced but I am a lot smaller than the other boys and I'm new. I can't let them push me around. You understand." Jim smiled winningly, forgetting the blood in his mouth and between his teeth.

  
Lestrade's face was a picture as he watched Jim grin through bloodied teeth, and he gave his head a little shake before glaring back at Jim sharply. "I don't care if he provokes you. I don't care if he insults your mother while hitting you around the head with her favourite dildo, understood? If they bully you, you come to me. I'm not having private factions and revenge rituals carried out in a barracks I'm in charge of. You live together, you get along." He shook his head, "And get those gloves off, if I see you wearing those indoors again you'll be in a world of trouble. You could have seriously injured him, I think you _did_ seriously injure him."

  
He raised a delicate eyebrow at Lestrade, surprised at his use of language and decided to fuck with him. "My mother just died." He had absolutely no intention of going to Lestrade with any of his problems. "I don't know you. In case you weren't informed the man who filled your role previously didn't exactly inspire confidence. You know he made students suck him off in this office. Probably the same chair you're sitting in. Forgive me if I don't feel confident in your ability to be supportive." Jim was enjoying hazing the new one, he wanted to see what kind of stuff he was made of.

  
Lestrate hesitated, "I'm sorry about your mother." He said formally and then his jaw dropped open as Jim continued. "I... uh... I certainly will _not_ be continuing that tradition. Jesus Christ." A quick breath and he managed to at least momentarily recover himself, although he resolved to change the chair as soon as possible. "I don't know or care what happened between you and your superior - that's for you, John Watson and possible some kind of therapist to sort out. I'm here to teach you and to train you and a large part of that involves all of you making it through to the end of the year in one piece, understood?"

  
Jim watched him skeptically, making it clear that he didn’t trust him. “I understand.” That didn’t mean he would be obedient about talking to him when shit happened. “I forgot I had the gloves on. I’d just come from outside. But I’ll keep that in mind. What are you going to do to me then? For fighting? What if I can’t keep with your conditions? I’m bound to get in more fights, I can’t help it if you aren’t around to hold my hand all the time.”

  
"What?" Lestrade looked at him nonplussed. "I'm not going to punish you for fights you haven't got into yet. And I certainly won't be holding your hand, if you keep this up I'm more likely to be rapping your knuckles. This is a first warning, as obviously I've only just arrived and you had no time to know the new rules. From now on, any fighting in the barracks will be dealt with severely. Now go and unpack." He looked down at his desk but there wasn't yet anything on it so he looked back up again. "I should unpack as well." 

Jim’s brows furrowed as Lestrade seemed to miss his point. “What does ‘rapping my knuckles’ _mean?_ You might understand when I say that punishments around here are already severe but you haven’t been here long so you might not know. I want to know what your idea of a severe punishment is because I can guarantee you that it won’t match up with everyone else’s. What will happen next time I get in a fight?”

  
Lestrade looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "Oh, you do, do you? Well that's very convenient for you but, as you have just pointed out I've only been here a few days. I'm not about to pull a punishment out of my hat, and let you use it for a bench mark to decide how much someone is worth hitting. Punishments aren't meant to be an obstacle you get through to achieve what you want, they are _meant_ to be a deterrent. Try and concentrate on actually behaving, then you won't have to find out what I mean."

  
Jim looked him straight in the eye and sneered, “I’m not afraid of you. If you challenge me and try and get me to fall in line I guarantee you will fold before I will. You’re too nice, you don’t have the stomach for it. There’s nothing that you would willingly do to me that can make me behave. Good luck here, I sort of like you. Try not to let the rest of the staff rub off on you.” Jim stood and left, not bothering to salute. When he got back to the barracks he found his bag empty and sitting on his bed. A cold feeling formed in his gut and apathetically he walked towards the barracks showers, opening the door to find all of the showers turned on and all of his possessions sitting in a sodden pile in the middle of the floor.

  
There was general sniggering from around, even if nobody dared say anything or meet Jim's eye, particularly not Sebastian who simply brushed passed him as the boys filed out for dinner. He didn't even bother to steal food from Jim's plate, just got on with eating, occasionally laughing and joking with some of his older friends. Only very occasionally though, because the old friends were still feeling snubbed by his previous friendship with Jim. It was gradually getting around though, that Sebastian Moran's infatuation with the crazy new boy had stopped, and that while said crazy new boy was absolutely mad and too dangerous to fight, any other torment that could be devised would be accepted and ignored by the boys at least, if not also some of the teachers.

  
Jim didn’t even know what to do with his soaked things so instead of going to dinner he grabbed his clothes into a pile and carried them to the laundry rooms where he ran them through the dryer. He hadn’t had much except clothes in there but there was a picture of his mother and him on one of his early birthdays that he didn’t quite remember that was mostly destroyed. The colors were blurred and warped and Jim sat on a bench in the laundry rooms during the dinner hour staring at the photo and trying to recreate it in his mind using willpower alone. When the buzzer went off Jim put his things into his duffle and went to the barracks where the boys were just getting back from dinner. Tomorrow was the first day back of school and Jim was almost looking forward to it if only because it gave him something to do.

 

* * *

 

  
Over the next few days Sebastian kept his head down and got on with work, ignoring Jim but noting the people who were tormenting him - putting rocks and cold water into his bed sheets, dropping gravel into his food, tripping him and knocking him on excursions, attaching rocks to his pack. It was all small things, things that Jim couldn't trace back to any one person, and mostly it was a mix of several people. The initial elation about going back to school had worn off - he missed the sergeant and had no respect for Lestrade. Even Moriarty seemed subdued, and John Watson was completely ignoring him. He was bored, and lonely, the combination that had often got him into trouble in the past.

  
Jim was all at once completely empty and absolutely furious all of the time. It felt like he was dull and slow, depressed until he found rocks in his pack or someone spread semen on his pillow and then his anger came roaring to life, burning bright and hot at a moment’s notice. He ignored Sebastian as best he could but they were still partners all the time. They hadn’t spoken to each other which was a feat unto itself. Classes were the only thing that kept him from spending all day lying in bed and not thinking, they kept him occupied but he still felt apathetic and empty, just waiting for the shoe to drop when Magnussen would realize that Jim wasn’t making efforts to win Sebastian back.

  
Sebastian managed to last out a week, in the end, before deciding Jim wasn't getting nearly enough punishment. During the next expedition out he brought gloves and a plastic bag, cutting the heads off stinging nettles when they went out, and biting back a yelp as the stinging leaves caught at his wrist, sucking on it and cursing. When they got back he untucked Jim's bed and carefully laid the nettles down under the sheet around where Jim's arse would lie, remaking the bed on top of it and smoothing the sheets down with a smirk. It hardly made him feel proud, but he wanted some closure, to hear Jim yelp and squeal from the bed underneath him.

  
Jim undressed quickly when he got back to the barracks, he still got catcalls when he had to strip in front of the other cadets – mocking invitations and innuendo now that he was “available.” He changed into his bed clothes quickly and pulled back the top sheet and his blanket so that he could get into bed. Jim yelped in surprise as the very top of his arse and most of his lower back was suddenly in pain and tears jumped to his eyes as the nettles bit into his skin. “Ow, fuck…” He hissed, trying to keep it down but the cadets were laughing at him and Jim spun on them furiously. “Yeah, it’s fucking hysterical. Laugh it up.” He ripped back the sheets to find the stinging nettles and something in him just snapped. Jim started furiously ripping the sheets from the mattress and then the mattress from the bed, half trying to clean the bed and half trying to destroy it.

  
Sebastian gave a snigger as he heard Jim scream, sitting up and looking over the top, his grin fading as he watched Jim going absolutely mental. The boy was clearly unhinged, but everyone else laughing, after treating him so badly for so long, suddenly got to him. Hoping down he grabbed at Jim, spinning him around, and tried to rip the sheets away from his hands, "Fucking calm down it's only a few nettles. You're lucky I didn't stick a thistle in there."

  
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Jim growled at Sebastian as the boy tried to take the sheets from him. He hadn’t had any positive touch in weeks, he was like a feral cat now. “Haven’t you done enough, you have to join in with them too?” Jim could feel his skin stinging and heating up, likely with a rash as his skin reacted to the brief contact with the nettles. “You’re lucky I don’t shove them up your arse!” Jim grabbed a fistful of the fallen nettles, not caring about the stinging in his hands and he slapped Sebastian across the face with them in his open palm, wincing as the contact stung his hand.

  
"Just calm down you stupid fucking - oww!" Sebastian closed his eyes as the stinging pain blossomed over his cheak, tears leaking from the eye that had been nearly struck, but they suddenly had nothing to do with the pain, "Done enough? What the hell did I do! You were the one who fucking betrayed me - snuck into my house, into my fucking bed, just to please your boss." The boys were laughing now, sniggers and some surprised gasps, and Sebastian knew it would be all over the place soon that Sebastian Moran had gotten into a cat fight with his ex. Grabbing Jim by the shoulders and ignoring the nettles he was holding he growled and slammed him against the nearest wall, softening his blow just before Jim hit it and snarling at him, "You stupid fucking beautiful _cunt._ You even tried to send me away from here."

  
“Shut up, just _shut the fuck up!”_ Jim screamed back as Sebastian let slip about what had happened. _Fuck fuck fuck_ Magnussen was going to know and he was going to send him to the sergeant for sure. “Just leave me alone you stupid bastard – ow!” Sebastian shoved him against the wall, even though Jim could tell that he had softened the blow. That made Jim furious and he struggled harder and pulled at Sebastian’s trousers as he tried to stuff the nettles down the front of his pants.

  
"Shit... shit! Don't you dare..." Sebastian kept tight hold of his arms, still grabbing at him miserably, and turning with a scowl as there was a commotion and Lestrade was behind them, hands on his hips, barking at them to break it up. Sebastian gave a sneer, not even bothering to give the man a look, "Oh fuck off Sergeant Peace Lily. I'm not letting go of him, he'll try and sting my cock off. I like my cock." He smirked and gave Lestrade a lascivious leer, "So did your predecessor."

  
Jim pressed his back hard against the wall and used it to lever himself up so that he could kick at Sebastian’s legs, not caring that Lestrade was there, Jim just wanted him to let go. He stopped trying to stuff the nettles down Seb’s pants but he still struggled, eventually spitting in Sebastian’s face when he couldn’t get free. “Let go of me you stupid fucker I’m going to kill you, make you fucking eat these.”

  
Sebastian looked at him doubtfully, only letting go as Lestrade snapped, "Both of you my office right now or I'll get Magnussen in here." Then he let his hands fall, turning and stalking out, standing in Lestrade office with his arms crossed and a scowl, glaring at both of them as they entered. "I stuck nettles in his bed, that illegal now?" He finally said aggressively. "He tried to sting my cock - just getting him back."

  
"Will you _stop_ fucking talking about your _cock."_ Lestrade snarled, "That was a disgusting display from both of you. I'm going to wait here, to see if anyone fancies apologising or talking it out and if not I want you both out on the training ground at 5am tomorrow morning." Sebastian smirked, shrugged, and stayed silent.

  
As soon as Sebastian let him go the apathy snuck back in and blanketed his anger. He went to Lestrade’s office, ducking his head and shaking in his boots a little at the idea of Lestrade calling him. “Please don’t call Magnussen. Don’t tell him.” He turned from Lestrade to Sebastian and spoke quickly and fiercely while looking at Sebastian’s boots. “I’m sorry for retaliating and stinging your face. I would appreciate it if you would stop hurting me, humiliating me and egging the other cadets into doing it too. I would be very grateful if your lot would stop shoving rocks in my bag and in my bed, if you’d quit putting shit in my food and if one more person pisses in my trunk – sorry, I’m apologizing, right. Just… it would be really _fucking_ super if you would stop and I won’t retaliate again.” He turned back to Lestrade, trying to keep the fear off of his face and out of his voice. “There, I apologized, you handled it, you don’t have to call Magnussen.” Jim knew he would be lucky if Mags just let his father have a go at him for a while, if he was unlucky he would be visiting the sergeant. “I’ve been punished enough can I just – go? I need to wash my sheets and that’s going to take a while. Can I have a pass to go to the laundry room after curfew or should I wait until tomorrow and just sleep on the floor?” He wasn’t even being sarcastic, making Jim sleep on the floor after he’d tried to destroy his bed would have been a light punishment by the previous sergeant’s standards. His skin itched and stung and Jim was struggling not to scratch at the cuts on his back.

  
Lestrade looked at him, a little surprised he'd obeyed so quickly and then turned to Sebastian who muttered "Sorry" at the floor. "Well..." he said after a moment of silence, "That worked better than I thought it would. I'd appreciate it if this endemic bullying ended, in particular picking on one person." He hesitated, looking at them both, making a note of the true fear on Jim's face. "I won't be calling anyone... for now. As to where you can sleep - Sebastian damaged your sheets so I think it's only fitting you take his bed." He raised an eyebrow at Sebastian's furious expression, "I'm sure the two of you will manage to share a single bed together. Make no mistake, if there is _any_ funny business during the night Magnussen will be the last of your worries. Jim, get some cream on your back and get to bed. Sebastian will join you once he's completed fifty laps of the course." He glared at them both until Sebastian sneered and stormed out and then turned to Jim, "I'd like to thank you for not retaliating to the other incidences of bullying, and believe me I will address it - not, before you panic, in a way that implicates you. The class should focus on working as a team, on learning and developing together. I realise that's a high goal so at the moment I'm happy to settle for people not actively trying to kill each other."

 

Jim clenched his jaw angrily when Lestrade realized how easily he’d gotten what he wanted as soon as he mentioned Magnussen’s name. If Jim had been fighting with anyone else it would be different but one word from Lestrade that Jim was getting into fights with Sebastian when he was meant to be doing the opposite was a sure fire way to get extra alone time the with old Sergeant. “No…” Jim groaned in surprise when Lestrade told him he would be sharing a bed with Sebastian. He waited until Sebastian left for his laps to speak up. “Sir, you can’t have missed the gossip. Making us share a bed is sexual harassment, are you _trying_ to get me molested in my sleep?” Jim didn’t really think that Sebastian would, he just wanted to get out of the punishment. “I’ll sleep on the floor sir, it’s fine.” He sighed and shook his head apathetically. “I don’t care if you implicate me or not, I don’t care if you step in or not. Just leave me alone. There’s nothing they can do – they are all just gnats. I don’t care. Waste your time somewhere else.”

  
"I'll have a word with Sebastian, rest assured he will _not_ be molesting you in your sleep." Lestrade said grimly, hoping he sounded surer than he felt. "And I know the gossip, but I don't care what 'history' you two have. You will need to learn to get along together, and lying next to each other in a single bed should be a manageable task for two grown men, which you both need to start acting like. And _I_ don't care what your feelings are on the bullying. I'm not doing this to help you - I'm doing this to train all of you. You _need_ to be able to focus and work as a group, even with people you despise. I'm _paid_ to do this. And you will be sleeping in Sebastian's bed."

  
“Quit playing games with me, you have no idea what you’re doing.” Jim sneered at Lestrade and hissed a “fuck you,” at him before giving him the finger and storming out. He still wasn’t sure if sharing a bed with Sebastian was a bigger risk than disobeying Lestrade at this point. He threw his sheets in the laundry along with his shirt and he spread some cream from his med kid on his lower back and arse. Fuck Sebastian too, Jim didn’t deserve his bullying. Jim just wouldn’t sleep tonight. He’d figure it out. Jim climbed up on the top bunk and curled up on his side with the scarf John gave him crumpled in his hands. He found that he slept better if he had it with him while he slept. It was stupid and childish but Jim would take any help sleeping he could get.

  
Sebastian finished the laps, listened to Lestrade lecture him in silence and then took a quick shower before swinging himself into his bunk. He hesitated as he found Jim was in it, curled up and vulnerable cuddling some piece of material. He briefly considered tugging the material away and setting fire to it but he couldn't bring himself to. Instead he got in next to Jim, tugged the covers away from him and curled up facing the other direction, hissing into the night. "Thank you for telling the Sarge that I'm a rapist. Especially after you practically made me rape you. Twice. Good to know how you see me you little shit."

  
Jim was awake when Sebastian crawled back into bed, almost hyper aware of his body and the space he took up on the small bed. Fuck Lestrade, seriously. Jim didn’t have a response for that besides an obligatory, “I hate you” that came out more tired sounding than genuine. Jim just wanted this night to be over with. He swore if he ended up with Sebastian’s morning wood pressed against his arse he was going to think of something particularly nasty to do to Lestrade.

  
"We've covered that." Sebastian snapped back bitterly, managing to keep his voice down. "You hate me, I love you. Kiss kiss bang bang. Just go the fuck to sleep." He closed his eyes, trying not to feel the heat from Jim's body, and then panicking a little when he realised he genuinely _couldn't_ feel any heat from Jim's body. Rolling over, he tugged the blanket back over him, and gently petted his shoulder. "Sorry about the nettles. Just wanted to hear you scream. After... you know... what you organised with your dad for me. And then sent the sergeant away. I just... fuck I dunno. It was quite fun for a few seconds I must admit."

  
Jim tensed up and hissed when Sebastian touched his shoulder but after a moment the hand was gone and the blanket covered him too, which Jim was pleased about. It had been cold when Sebastian took the blanket but Jim wasn’t about to ask for another one. “I didn’t fucking organize it, that was you, you twat. What the fuck were you thinking? I just said I was in on it. I sent the sergeant away because he is a _fucking rapist_ who Magnussen hired to threaten children with and manipulate them into working for him. Don’t act like he’s a good person just because he fucked your head up so bad you think he actually cared about you. I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself, now you can add sadism to your fucked up personality.”

  
"You were in on it." Sebastian hissed back furiously. "Do you think I asked him to rape you? No - I asked him to torture me. Because I wanted to be stronger. For you. He cooked up that fucking scheme and _you_ were happy enough to let me watch it. To make me think they were hurting you - that was the worst fucking time of my _life."_ He hesitated and then added in a lower voice. "The Sergeant never fucked up my head. He looked after me and cared for me and I fucking respected him. You know who fucked my head up? You. Because _he_ never made me love him. And he never did it on someone else's orders. _And_ he never told me to fuck him while really I was raping him. He was a goddam angel compared to you."

  
Jim felt all of Sebastian’s words like blows, even though a lot of it wasn’t true, it was what Jim had made him believe and that was almost just as bad. Jim sat up dully and started climbing down the bunk ladder. “Good night Sebastian.” And he scooted underneath his own bed, hoping the small space between the floor and the top of his mattress would insulate some of his heat. It was much too small a space for Sebastian to fit in with him. There was no way he was getting back in that bed. Jim was too empty to cry so he just sighed in exhaustion and closed his eyes, trying to get to sleep.

  
"Wait, wait what?" Sebastian took a breath and then climbed down the ladder, laying on the floor next to him wrapped in the blankets and wriggling a hand underneath the bed to find a bit of Jim to hold. "I'm not getting punished tomorrow just because you can't stand the fucking truth..." He hesitated then hissed desperately, "Do you know how much fucking energy I am expending into believing that it isn't? That there's a part of you that really does care for me, that this is all some act, that you really are faking at being a faker..." he hesitated. Saying it out loud made it sound even more stupid and he sighed, giving Jim a poke and then pushing the blanket under the bed for him. "Good night, James Moriarty."

  
Jim rolled his eyes as he heard Sebastian get out of bed and felt him behind him, vindicated when Sebastian couldn’t wiggle in the tiny space under the bed. Sebastian reached under the bed and grabbed his elbow. “Let it go.” He whispered quietly, wondering a little hysterically if Sebastian understood how much energy it took to keep up the deception when these days he didn’t have the energy to make himself get out of bed. It was _so_ much better to hurt him now, hurt him like this, than to give him up to Magnussen. Jim didn’t share what was his with other people. Sebastian shoved the blankets at him and Jim curled up in them gratefully, the floor was fucking cold tile and Jim didn’t have a shirt on. “It’s Jim. Not James.” He grumbled back defiantly.

  
"I don't even know if Jim fucking exists." Sebastian mumbled as he headed back up to bed. He was vaguely aware that they would get in trouble for this, but felt he barely cared anymore.

“That’s okay, I don’t either.” Jim whispered back after he heard Sebastian crawl into bed. He didn’t sleep well that night, even with the blankets the floor was cold and uncomfortable.

 

* * *

 

 

Sure enough, he was woken with a poke in the side at 5am, to an irritated Lestrade demanding, "Where is Moriarty and what have you done with him? Please don't tell me you burried him during the night?"

  
Sebastian groaned, pulling the sheets over his head, "Didn't touch him. He's under the bed. With my blanket."

  
 Jim woke the next morning, Saturday, when he heard Lestrade whisper his name furiously. He scooted out from under the bed with a scowl on his face and Jim wrapped the scarf around his neck to keep warm in the morning chill. “It’s my fault, I decided to sleep on the floor. Moran tried to talk me into staying, was even charitable enough to give me his blankets. You shouldn’t punish him for trying.” Jim handed over the blankets morosely. It wasn’t that he felt bad about getting Sebastian in trouble, it was that he didn’t want to do a joint exercise with him after their talk last night.

  
Lestrade looked at them both and then shook his head. "Both of you, dressed, beds made, ready, and out into the exercise yard. Now." He scowled at them and then marched into his office to bang his head on the table. Sebastian sighed, rolled his eyes, and then started getting ready. He didn't care what they had to do this morning. It was unlikely to be anything too painful or too tough. Maybe more laps.

  
Jim couldn’t make his bed since his sheets were still in the laundry hamper but he did get dressed, winding the scarf around his neck and pulling on his gloves just to spite Lestrade. He too wasn’t worried about whatever punishment the man had cooked up. Between the two of them Sebastian and he should be able to work themselves out of it. Jim went out to the yard, stomach grumbling and bleary eyed. It was difficult enough to be active when he was so depressed but a five AM Saturday morning was its own kind of torture. Jim didn’t say anything to Sebastian, just looked out over the grounds listlessly.

  
Sebastian was naturally a morning person and had woken up by the time they got to the exercise yard. Lestrade took them through a warm-up then lead them across the yard and up the hill to an assault course, known as "Moriarty's Maze." Jim's father had set it up, and as well as the usual course - ropes, netting, water-pools, pipes, there were other hidden traps. Hanging live-wires, snares, net-traps, hidden rakes and spikes. For someone cautious and alert it was just about possible to get through the course without setting any of them off. Moriarty usually ensured that anyone setting off on it was neither. At the end of the course were two jaunty little flags, one labelled "J" the other "S". Sebastian sneered at it, and crossed his arms, shaking his head, "That's it? A race through Moriarty's Maze? Inspired. I have done this once before you know."

  
Lestrade raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "No, not a race. You go one at a time. One of you shouts instructions to the other, while the other..." He tugged a hood blindfold out of his pocket, "Wears this. The person in the blindfold relies exclusively and completely on the other person to tell them where to go, which traps to avoid. I will be watching on the CCTV so no cheating." He dropped the blindfold on the ground between them. "You'll not join the class again until you both have your flags. If I feel generous, and if you've both made a decent attempt at it, I might bring you lunch." He turned away and then came back with a coin, placing it on top of the blindfold, "You might find that helps you to decide the most important question: who goes first. Have fun boys."

  
Jim scowled but held his tongue until after Lestrade left. Then Jim sat on his arse and tilted his head back miserably. “I’m not doing it. Eventually he’ll give up. I’m going to take a nap.” His father’s maze wasn’t anything to joke about, it wouldn’t matter if their partner yelled out perfect instructions, someone could seriously get hurt. This was a stupid exercise and Jim wasn’t willing to give Lestrade anymore ground after last night.

  
Sebastian managed a half laugh, sitting down about a meter away and resting back on his elbows. "Well I've got more fat on me, but you're more used to starving conditions and don't seem to need to eat anything. Could be interesting to see who lasts the longest. Heh. And like I'm letting you guide me through that thing, you'll send me straight into the bear trap." He looked after Lestrade and shook his head. "He's a little wanker isn't he. He's not even a Sargeant, he's a _police_ Sergeant."

  
Jim rolled his eyes, “He still outranks you.” He smirked and tried to clear a spot on the ground from snow for him to sit on. “I’ll outlast you if we’re fasting. He won’t let this go on that long though, once he sees we aren’t working he can’t make us sit out here with no food forever. A day or two at most.” He shook his head at Sebastian’s assessment of what he would do if he were leading Sebastian through the obstacle course. “Which one of us put nettles in the other’s bed? Your face looks nasty today by the way.” Jim rubbed unconsciously at the healing bruise and cut on his own face from two weeks ago.

  
Sebastian scowled at him but it was a fairly fond scowl, "Yeah yours looks pretty sweet as well. Was that your dad?" He rubbed at his face, it felt a lot better now the stinging had gone but he guessed there were still a few bumps and rashes, there was still the odd sting. "You could've blinded me you crazy little bastard. All I wanted to do was make your arse burn. Think of it as the spanking I never gave you."

  
Jim sighed and stared up at the cloudy sky unhappily. “Can’t you just beat me up and put me in the hospital wing so I don’t have to freeze my arse off? Just hit me in the eye or the nose. A broken finger would be good enough, right? I’m feeling generous today, you can do it if you want.” Sebastian was getting far too chummy with him and Jim needed to set him straight and then stay away from him. “Stop harassing me. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t be so familiar with me.”

  
"You would appreciate it - you're about three months too fucking late for that." Sebastian grumbled, "It's hard not to be 'familiar' with someone when I've had my cock in their arse." The words made him remember that Jim had been unwilling when he'd done it - carrying out a job rather than actually wanting sex and he sighed unhappily. Coming over he took Jim's hand and held it in his lap, gently running his own larger hand over it and over the brittle delicate fingers, "All fucking right, which one? Which one do you need the least?"

  
Jim flinched when Sebastian threw that in his face, their failed attempt at sex. He almost pulled his hand away from Sebastian’s but in the end he decided it didn’t matter and let it be. Jim was surprised and a little bit impressed that Sebastian was going to do it. Jim thought he’d have to do it himself. “Right hand, I’m left handed. And I guess my pinky. Try not to break it too badly. Just a little break. Something that will heal easily.” Jim ignored the metaphor in his words and clutched at his scarf with his left hand, ready to bite down on his knuckles if he needed to. “Can’t wait to see his face.”

  
"He's watching the CCTV right now." Sebastian gave another grin, taking a breath and focusing on Jim's finger not wanting to watch his face. "He'll think we're being all hand-holdy and friendly, he's going to fucking piss himself when you go running to Watson." Another breath, like watching Jim being taken by the Sergeant, Sebastian was thinking in terms of necessity. Jim needed him to do this, and he could do it, therefore it would damn well get done. Briefly closing his eyes he held the finger and then with a grunt of effort fractured it above the knuckle.

  
“Ow! Fuck, ow ow ow.” Jim’s voice was quiet but fierce, the pain woke him up from the apathy for a few moments the world was bright and clear. Jim stood, scowling fiercely at the little finger that was already starting to purple and swell. “You did a good job. Alright, I guess this means you can piss off to wherever you would rather be. I’m going to go see Watson.” Jim picked out one of the security cameras and flipped Lestrade the bird. “I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard. He’s in way over his head.” Jim whistled happily on his way to the hospital wing, pleased to have one small victory when he felt like all he’d been doing was losing lately.

  
Sebastian watched him go, feeling a lump in his throat, then flipped off the same security camera and headed straight to Moriarty's room, next to the maze. Knocking on the door he grinned as he remembered it was still pretty early. The day was looking up. Impatiently he rapped on the wood again, determined to wake the man up. Jim had gone, he was just going to have to get used to the strange ache in his chest that came with that, but in the meantime he could at least make steps to get himself the next best thing... 

Moriarty was actually awake, although he hadn’t had his first cup of coffee yet and he was in a terrible mood. That mood did not improve when he saw the Moran boy standing outside his door. “What the _fuck_ do you want, Moran?”

  
Sebastian gave a smirk as Moriarty woke up, "I've just broken your son's finger and I want the Sergeant's address. The old Sergeant. The good one. I know you've kept in touch, I just want to know where he is." He gave a cheeky grin, "Wanna send him a postcard..."

  
Moriarty shook his head and resisted the urge to slam the door in his face immediately. “You are a stupid son of a bitch Moran. I thought for a moment you might be half way decent but now I can see that you aren’t actually strong, you are self-destructive and I don’t have time to waste with little boys who do my job for me. Now piss off.” He slammed the door and grumbled all the way back to his rooms where the coffee was just getting done. Fuck, he hated those stupid brats.

  
Sebastian stared at the door in shock before giving a little snarl and pushing it open again, stepping inside, "I'm _not_ a little boy. I got through what you put me through even back when I did think your son cared for me. Before I knew what he really was. That evening, I lost respect for the sergeant as well, thinking he could actually hurt someone like that. And then I found out the truth. I suppose I should've known it after what we overheard." This was getting far to technical and he waved a hand in front of his face dismissively. "Whatever. If you won't do it for me, do it for your friend the Sergeant, you know he'd like to hear from me again."

  
Moriarty snarled and grabbed a fist full of the front of Sebastian’s uniform and he shoved him up against a wall. “Enter my space without my permission again and I’ll do more than break your fingers, you hear? All that stuff I did with you? It was fake. Jim could handle it when he was a child. You are a stupid masochistic little shit – of course Simon could _actually hurt someone like that._ What do you think he’s been doing to you over the last year, hmmm? Quit fucking lying to yourself, it’s pathetic.” Moriarty was just as good at psychological manipulation and torture as he was at the physical stuff and he took joy in forcing Sebastian to confront his relationship with the sergeant and accept his victimhood. “You should have known from the very beginning that my son was playing with you after what we overheard. Anything else is just your arrogance insisting that someone could fall in love with you so quickly, was so desperate for you that he was willing to hurt himself to get to you. Don’t trust anything that seems too good to be true, because it is.” He shoved the boy against the wall and grabbed a sticky note and pen from the table. “You’re a pathetic little sod so I’ll give you his phone number. If you really hate yourself that much then go ahead and give him a ring. You know I don’t know who’s worse, between the two of you – fucking encouraging him…” Moriarty stuck the note to Sebastian’s chest and shoved him towards the door. “Now get the fuck out.”

  
Sebastian felt his heart race as Moriarty pushed him up against the wall, scowling as the man spoke, not wanting to believe what he said. It wasn't too hard at the moment to convince himself that both of the Moriarty's were pathological liars, but he knew that Moriarty had a point, and it really was a good point. Some things were too good to be true. He turned to give a half-salute and a 'thanks' before leaving at a breakneck fun before Moriarty changed his mind or decided to hit him with something. The post it was shoved into his pocket where his fingers curled around it protectively.

 

* * *

 

  
Meanwhile, Jim had made his way to the medical building, hoping that he could just grab a few tongue depressors and some medical tape and take care of his finger without John knowing. He was disappointed in him enough recently, distant and cold in a way that left Jim feeling the same way. It was better to take care of things himself. Unfortunately as soon as Jim stepped through the door he saw John who looked up from his book to see who was coming in so early. “Er- sorry, Dr. Watson. I know it’s early.”

  
John looked up despairingly to hear Jim's voice, "Oh no - Jim - and you were managing so well..." He saw Jim's finger and quickly went over to the freezer, grabbing an ice-pack. "I was awake, don't worry. Put that on it and tell me what happened. Is it just bruised - or..."

  
Jim gave John an incredulous look, wondering if he really was so separated from what was going on with him that he really thought that any part of his life was being managed well at the moment. He kept expecting John to call him in during the week because of the bullying and the fights Jim got in – he’d expected something. But John hadn’t called him in, hadn’t seen him all week and Jim had to remind himself that this was what he’d wanted. Or – what Mycroft had wanted. “It’s broken. I did it myself to get out of punishment.” He decided not to throw Sebastian under the bus for it. It was his decision.

  
"You... oh no." John sighed. He'd been trusting Jim to look after himself, the boy had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want John close, and had assumed that as Jim was turning up to breakfast, and not coming for medical treatment, he'd been managing well. And now Jim was here, in trouble, facing punishment, and with a broken finger. Taking two splits from the drawer he took Jim's hand gently, "Keep resting it on the ice, good. I'll take a feel..." He gently pressed at Jim's finger, "It's not broken, just fractured. I'll splint it up and you can go back to classes. No more physical things requiring your hands though and-"

He looked up as the door slammed open and Lestrade was there, looking furious and a little ill, " _What_ is going on, what the _hell_ did Moran do to you?"

  
Jim felt John’s disappointment and he blinked hard, feeling exhausted and hungry and in pain. Emotionally he was near the end of his tether, stressed out and alone, bullied by his classmates and so fucking angry all of the time. John’s disappointment was too much right now and Jim just shut down. “It’s the weekend anyway,” Jim reminded him. John had a tendency to lose track of what day it was, especially if he had been drinking. Lestrade came in and Jim hunched his shoulders defensively before realizing that he wasn’t angry at Jim. “Nothing I didn’t ask for. I was going to break it myself but then I figured why not let him take out a little of his pent up aggression. Have _you_ tried to do Moriarty’s maze blindfolded? You hang upside down from the netting. It’s not something you can do just by having some twat scream directions at you from across the field. I figured it was better to break my finger than break my neck.”

  
Lestrade stared at him and then turned and banged his head hard against the wall, "This place is a fucking madhouse. I mean how the hell am I meant to work with this? You have two modes kid: killing yourself or killing everyone else. What am I meant to do with that?"

  
"Greg... calm down." John said, hiding a smile as he splinted Jim's finger. "It's... yes. It's mad. And complicated. If I were you I'd run now, while you can."

  
"Can't." Lestrade sighed and collapsed down onto a chair, glaring at Jim, "Fucking maintenance - that came out wrong. I want to pay it. I want to support them. Fucking gym instructors, that's better."

  
Jim thought that was an accurate summary of his personality so he let it go uncontested even though it was insulting. “I don’t go off on anyone unless they’ve hurt me first. And don’t fucking start that shit again about – I don’t even fucking know. I’m not going to let people beat the piss out of me just because it makes your job easier.” Jim snarled, feeling his anger simmer hot. He was tired of fucking up and getting blamed for everything.

  
John finished splinting his finger and nodded, "Alright, all done. Off you go." He turned to Lestrade and shook his head. "This is only the beginning. Drink?"

  
Jim held perfectly still as John finished bandaging his finger even as his stomach clenched painfully. The fact that John hadn’t asked about who was hurting him, or why he was getting in trouble was rather telling. Jim had done his job well then. He couldn’t help that his betrayal showed on his face and Jim made an unhappy noise before turning and leaving as quickly as possible. He hated how stupid and childish he must took, like a fucking girl pining after a boy and then feeling hurt when he didn’t give her attention. Jim squeezed at his broken finger, shuddering as the pain went through him. It was fine. He was in control. He had a plan and he was sticking to it. Jim didn’t need anyone.

"Welcome to the mad-house." John said dryly as Jim left, handing Greg a beer as the man banged his head against the wall again. It was nice to have another sane adult around, and John appreciated it even more as the days passed, as Jim seemed to get more and more unreachable, Sebastian more and more belligerent and the other cadets continued the bullying and hazing amongst each other. The rumours about Moriarty's Maze Punishment had spread though, and after Victor was sent on an exercise with a fellow cadet who walked him into every trap until he was sent to the hospital wing the bullying died down a little. Nobody wanted to be blindfolded and trusted to Jim Moriarty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Fighting, some violence. Depression and anxiety.


	2. I'm Always Playing Games

On the last week of January it was Jim's birthday, and John set up a cake on the dining-room table, even with a few balloons and decorations, sighing miserably at the lack of guests which he was pretty sure represented his complete failure as a foster parent. Next to the cake were two presents he'd bought and an expensively wrapped present from Serephine. Greg had, after much persuasion, also bought a small gift, inexpertly wrapped in newspaper. There was only one card. He had two shots of whiskey and then hid the bottle, lighting up the candles and waiting for Jim to arrive.

  
As much as Jim was spiraling out of control he was still self-possessed enough to stay out of fights unless they hit him first. That only happened far away from the barracks and Lestrade’s classroom where they wouldn’t get in trouble. It had certainly quieted down though and people mostly stopped putting shit in his bed for fear that Lestrade would put Jim in their bed and he’d strange them in their sleep. Today was his birthday and impulsively Jim decided to carry the damaged picture of his mother in his pocket. He wondered what he’d be doing if she were still alive. He was skipping lunch after morning classes because John had asked to meet him, probably something to do with his emancipation. Jim hadn’t heard from Mycroft but the other man had a vested interest in keeping Jim isolated so he didn’t expect that he had shirked his end of the bargain. When morning exercises were over Jim showered quickly and headed to the medical wing. It was empty and kind of dark, Jim frowned heavily before calling out for John and then following his voice into his personal rooms. The dining room table was fitted out with a cake and gifts and decorations. Jim stopped dead in his tracks and stared at them in shock. “Wh- what is all this?”

  
John looked up and gave a smile, a little forced but still genuine. "Happy Birthday. I know it's not much, but it's not everyday you hit sixteen and I thought it was worth celebrating. There's a pizza in the fridge as well, but you're welcome to a slice of cake first." Jim's expression seemed to be changing very quickly so he bit back the gabble of "sorry, sorry, I couldn't make more" and instead just focused on the smile, trying to keep it light and genuine.

  
Jim’s eyes were quickly filling up and he bit his lip hard, trying to keep the tears back. All he needed was to humiliate himself. “I – uh… I’ve never had anything like this. Most years I’d get – you know, something. A cake or a gift or a card. Just not… everything together. I’ve never had a party before.” Jim sniffed, all at once trying not to look at the little display and not able to take his eyes off of it. “Why? I’ve been – so awful to you? Thank you. Fuck – I’m sorry!” Jim did start crying then and he sat on the floor against the wall and covered his face miserably to hide his embarrassment over the emotional outburst.

  
John looked at him and then sat down next to him, leaning against the wall but not touching him, figuring Jim needed a bit of space for himself right now, and certainly not large adults hands all over him. "This really isn't a party." John said quietly, "It's probably the smallest and saddest sixteen celebration I've ever seen. But you deserved something. It's been an incredibly tough year for you and no matter how you feel about me, I'm still very impressed and proud at you for getting on with it." He kept is eyes off Jim as well, letting him cry in private. "Besides - I felt like cake."

  
Jim felt himself cave and the words were gushing out before he could stop them. “I never did anything with your boyfriend… we just kissed a little. I lied because – because Magnussen’s going to kill me or worse and I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else. Fuck.” Jim’s shoulders shook as he curled in tighter on himself, trying to keep everything contained inside him. He shook his head adamantly and tried to wipe at his eyes, “No it’s – it’s wonderful, thank you. I’m not even your ward anymore, probably, you didn’t have to do this. I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I was trying but I can’t do this anymore.” Jim was having something of a nervous breakdown due to his self-imposed isolation and the stress.

  
"Shhh... oh Jim..." John felt terrible that despite himself he was pleased to hear that Sherlock and Jim hadn't slept together. Reaching out he wrapped an arm around Jim, hoping it didn't come across as threatening. "It's fine, really. I'll, I'll get you a tissue. You worry about protecting yourself from Magnussen, don't worry about me. For god's sake I'm a grown man. You're a teenage boy. It's me that should be trying to protect you, not the other way around." He raised his eyebrows as sudden clarity hit, "Ahhh... you've done something similar with Sebastian, haven't you? You - you don't have to answer. You don't have to talk about it or even think about it until you're ready. Magnussen is treating you abominably, and you need to start living on your own terms rather than his. But for tonight - just enjoy your birthday and eat cake."

  
Now that he had started he couldn’t stop and the rest of the story came out. “That’s why I kissed him – to make Sebastian hate me but it didn’t really work. He was supposed to go to Eton but he came back… Magnussen was so angry when he found out he said – he’d going to give me to the sergeant over spring break if I don’t make up with Sebastian. I’m fucked, but – but Sebastian’s not yet, I can’t do that to him.” Jim took the tissue from John and mopped at his face in frustration. “Mycroft will only get me away from Magnussen if I agree to be his little soldier. But if I run Mags is just going to hurt you or Sebastian. I don’t have the ability to save myself, protecting you is all the control I have… I thought about killing myself but I don’t want to die. Everyone’s been so horrible to me since term started and I _hate_ them. Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my shit like that, I shouldn’t have told you.” Jim felt miserable but also hugely relieved and lighter after his cry. It was humiliating but probably necessary for his mental health.

  
"I think you're trying to do far too much." John said gently. Jim was only just sixteen, after all, it was natural he'd heaped all the worry and stress on himself. John remembered when he'd been a teenager, terrified that his sister's drinking had been out of control, worried about how to help her, to stop her, to keep his parents together. All the stress he'd piled on himself. "Sebastian Moran has a powerful family and by the sounds of it powerful friends." He said gently. "Magnussen can't hurt him too badly. Sherlock - won't be killed. That time has most definitely passed. You need to look after yourself, and worry about your own life. I would... trust Mycroft over Magnussen I have to say. But at the end of the day, you need to decide what is best for you to do. If that involves running away, or setting up a new life, then you do that. If it means knocking back the bullies then, and please don't tell Greg I said this, you do that as well. At the moment you're trying so hard to sort everyone else out. Well, everyone else is fine. Everyone else is being a selfish bastard, myself included. And don't worry, this little episode won't go any further than these walls and between us, alright?" He handed across another tissue.

  
“He’ll find me if I run,” Jim muttered morosely. “I still don’t know what to do – I don’t want to work for either of them but I don’t feel like I have a choice. Mycroft wants me to continue working for Magnussen to allow him to feed him information. Sebastian’s stupid, if he knew Magnussen wanted him for something he’d probably go sprinting towards it with open arms.” Jim cleared his throat and stood as he took another tissue and cleaned his face properly. “I’m playing a game of chicken with Magnussen,” Jim realized with no small amount of horror, “except I’m waiting to see how many times he can run me over with his car before it runs out of petrol to see which one of us can walk away.” That was fucking stupid but all Jim had was his stubbornness. He felt like his only real option was to let Magnussen chew him up and spit him out when he realized Jim wouldn’t work for him and he had to hope that he’d have enough pieces left when it was through. “Thank you – please don’t tell anyone. I… really appreciate what you’ve done for me.” Jim watched him warily but reached out slowly to hug John, feeling wrong and exposed after being on his own the last month. “Are all of these gifts from you?”

  
John rather awkwardly hugged him back. "At the moment Magnussen is your biggest threat which, for better or worse, makes Holmes your biggest ally." He said gently. "Just concentrate on that for the moment, and let me and Sebastian look after ourselves. I'm sure we'll be able to." He helped him stand and looked over the table. "Those two are from me. The rather... expensively wrapped one is from Serephine. This one I pushed Lestrade into getting for you. I have no idea what he got. The card is from me." He handed it over looking a little awkward. "It's... well it's very basic. But the cake should be nice."

  
Jim settled down in a chair in front of the table and absently took the distorted photo from his pocket and set it upright against the John’s card. “It’s my mum. You can’t really see because half her face is all melty – the boys dumped my things in the showers and it got a little wet.” Jim was embarrassed about having the photo with him but he set his jaw and prepared for John to laugh at him. When John didn’t laugh Jim relaxed and started opening his gifts when a shout came from the hospital wing and Jim recognized Sebastian’s voice. “Through here Sebastian,” Jim called to him, not exactly caring if he was here at the moment, only wishing that his eyes weren’t so puffy and he didn’t look like he’d just had an ugly cry. “I still can’t believe his mum bought me a present, she’s insane.” Jim muttered quietly to John before Sebastian came in.

  
"She was quite... overbearing." John murmured, smiling a little sadly at the picture. He hesitated as Sebastian called out, but thankfully Jim invited him in. Seb pushed his way in, wet and muddy and with one arm bleeding, coming up short as he saw the party things laid out, "Woah, what's this? Fucking hell Watson, don't tell me this is a date. I... uh... had a bit of a fall..."

  
Jim came up short as he saw Sebastian’s injury. To cover his concern Jim fell back on sarcasm, “Yes Sebastian. John and I are dating now because my promiscuous behavior knows no bounds. We’re madly in love, I’m sorry you just couldn’t compete with the size of his cock.” He probably shouldn’t have said that. “It’s my birthday you twat.” He gave John a slightly apologetic look before he opened Serephine’s gift and burst into laughter. “Oh my god – Seb you never told me your mum had a sense of humor.” It was a copy of the Prince, the satirical work by Niccolo Machiavelli. “’Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.’”   
  
Sebastian scowled, "Yeah well you're lucky I didn't give you a reminder of the size of my cock the other night, you've clearly forgotten." He muttered, feeling a bit foolish for not knowing, or getting Jim anything.

  
John sighed and came over, looking at Sebastian's arm and then going to the sink to fill a bowl with water. "Alright, what happened?"

  
Sebastian smirked, "Moriarty's Maze with Carl Powers. He fucked me up completely, walked me straight into the damn traps until this happened and we got to stop. I'll get him back though, he'll be in here for you as soon as my arm heals up. Is it really your birthday?"

  
"Yes." John snapped sharply, thinking he probably needed to have a word with Greg about that particular punishment, "It really is his birthday. His sixteenth birthday."   
Sebastian rolled his eyes and then froze, face going white. "What - no - he's seventeen. That's why he's in our barracks…"

  
Jim flipped him off and got back to opening his presents, relieved that at least Sebastian was teasing him over the normal stuff and not making fun of him for his swollen eyes or his blotchy face. “I told you it’s a fucking stupid idea. Maybe it works for adults who are at least mostly mature and have developed some empathy. What were you fighting with Carl Powers over?” Jim asked curiously. Carl, to his knowledge, had mostly left him alone since he’d gotten back from break which was odd. Jim watched Sebastian’s face go white when he heard how old he was turning, it just took an extra moment for Jim to figure out what he was upset about. Rolling his eyes he muttered, “Seriously? That’s the thing that bothers you? I lied to you about not being a virgin too but you didn’t freak out about that.” Jim then realized that he’d never actually told Sebastian that he’d lied about that and wanted to smack himself for how out of sorts he was feeling. “Oh look, socks from Lestrade!”

  
"You, wait, _what."_ Sebastian felt panicked little wheels spin in his mind as he worked through everything. "You were... oh god..." John sighed and started cleaning his arm but Sebastian snatched it away, glaring at them both. "You let me rape you - and that was your fucking _virginity?_ Holy fuck..." Giving a growl he swung his injured arm up and smacked it down hard on the table, letting out a howl as it hurt slightly more than he thought it would, "You are fucked up. Seriously, seriously fucked up. Fucking OW. Lestrade is a wanker and he's an unimaginative wanker, I would've bought you a fucking golden dildo. Why the hell is my mother sending you presents? I HATE you.”

  
Jim sneered, “I’m pretty sure there’s something wrong with a sentence that starts with ‘you let me rape you.’ And I know it was your first time too, so what? Am I supposed to feel guilty?” Jim did feel guilty, at least that he was lying to Sebastian to make him feel worse. Sebastian hurt himself and Jim had a difficult time finding any sympathy for his masochism. “I’m not some fucking flower all ready to fall to pieces as soon as you sneeze on me!” Jim sulked and glanced at John, not really sure how to handle Sebastian when he was like this, not when they weren’t friends anymore. “I hate you too so we’re squared. I hate my da too, and Magnussen for putting me in with the older boys. Don’t tell any of the other cadets my age, they have enough reasons to bully me as it is. Apparently bending over for Sebastian Moran is a good enough reason as any.”

  
Sebastian stared at him, face twisted, breath harsh, batting John away as the man tried to touch his arm, "My first time - and I thought I was with some hot little bastard who - turns out I was in fact raping a whore. Wonderful." John tried to grab his arm again but Sebastian just scowled, snatching it away and storming towards the door, "I didn't make you bend over. If you'd refused you know I wouldn't have touched you. But you went ahead with it. You let me do... _that..._ to you. I fucking well know you're not a delicate little piece why would that mean I want to become that kind of man. Fuck _off_ Watson."

  
He stormed out the door while John made an agonised noise, "Come back - Sebastian!" He sighed then turned back to Jim, "Sorry about this but I really do need to fix his arm. I'm sure he won't tell anyone else.”

  
The more upset Sebastian got the more numb Jim went in response. One day Jim would say the wrong thing and Sebastian would stop hanging around him, on that day he’d be able to stop and he felt like it couldn’t come soon enough. He waved an hand at John, indicating he could go and Jim opened up his two gifts from John last. One was a box of sweets, a Quality Street tin and the last one was a notebook and pen. That would be good for the notes he had to take in class. The pen was nice. When John came back a little while later Jim sighed and smacked his forehead on the kitchen table. “I fucked him up. Worth it though. Am I an awful person?” Jim knew that he was but maybe because his hands had been sort of tied that limited his awfulness. It just felt like nothing could really excuse the terrible mix of truth and lies that he fed the other boy every day.

  
John hesitated, tidying away his materials and smiling at Jim when he saw the last two presents had been opened. Gently he patted Jim's head, "You're a person brought up in an awful place." He answered eventually. "And I'm sure he'll recover. I do think it would have been better if he'd gone to Eton - here he's surrouded by reminders of you, and the Sergeant. But - it's his life. He'll learn to cope with it I'm sure." John was running out of sympathy and he didn't have a huge amount left for someone as rich and well supported as Sebastian Moran. "I hope you like the chocolates. Would you like some cake?”

  
“I tried to make him go…” Jim insisted but he let the matter drop. It was his birthday today and he could have one fucking day that didn’t have Sebastian Moran at the center of his attention. Jim finally relaxed and grinned cautiously, “If that’s alright? It looks so good.” Just then the phone rang from another room, probably John’s cell phone. “Er - you should answer that. It might be Mycroft.”

  
"Oh I do hope not." John sighed and put the knife down, leaving the room with a, "help yourself, and there's snacks in the cupboard. Happy Birthday." He looked at his phone for a few seconds before picking up, and cautiously answering with a "Hello, Dr. John Watson... ah... yes. Holmes." He nodded a few times, his eyes flickering to the door and then nodded again. "I'll tell him. Thank you." Coming back through he gave Jim a smile, large and genuine. "That was indeed Mycroft Holmes. He says happy birthday - he's just started the paperwork for your emancipation. It has to be kept strictly secret from Magnussen until it's finished or he'll find ways to stop it but... it's started now.”

  
Jim took up the knife, cutting them both a slice of cake and plating it while John seemed to get steadily in a worse and worse mood if the scowl on his face was anything to go by. When he hung up Jim was a tad bit relieved that he didn’t have to talk to Mycroft. “That’s - that’s good. I… well at the time I asked Mycroft if you could adopt me but - as you can imagine he wasn’t terribly fond of the idea. Emancipation seemed the more - clean cut option.” Jim gave him his cake and took a bite of his own, smiling gently at the taste.   
  
"It is a much better idea." John agreed, pushing the cake around a little bit on the paper plate and then starting to eat it. "Be aware though, you won't get any benefits or help until you're older, if this government stays in power maybe much older. I'll help you as much as I can, and of course you'll still live here in the holidays if you need to. Adoption would be... far more complicated, although if you ever do want that I would be more than happy." He looked up with a bright clear smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Is the cake alright? I haven't baked for a long, long while and my kitchen isn't the most reliable. It's good that you're gaining independence from Magnussen.”

  
Jim noticed the way that John’s eyes stayed dull and didn’t light up with his smile like they normally did but he decided not to think about it. “You made this? It’s great, thank you for all of this. It’s brilliant.” Jim took another bite of cake and reflected that things were looking much better.

 

* * *

 

  
Sebastian almost managed to push Jim out of his mind after that. Ignoring him and using his time to torment Carl Powers and other boys instead. He called the sergeant, shakily, uncertainly, and at the sound of the man's voice _Alright Sebby? Not getting into trouble are you?_  He'd found himself embarrassingly close to tears. Soppy though it was, the Sergeant was the only person who'd ever really admired him, the only person who'd told him he was doing well, been impressed with what he'd achieved. To everyone else he was a troublemaker or a waste of space. The man had teased him as his voice choked up, but the teasing had been gentle, familiar, and by the end of the conversation Sebastian was even more determined to meet him over the holidays, keeping away from Jim but making maybe a little more noise than he needed to when he jerked off above Jim in the dark. He kept away from Moriarty as well, until one late evening when he was jogging and the man grabbed his arm, holding a finger too his lips as he dragged Seb over to Moriarty's office, "Shh... they're talking again. Thought you might want to hear…"

  
Jim kept his head down over the next week and he felt a lot more emotionally stable now that he was able to talk to John again. Things weren’t the same between them but Jim suspected that had more to do with the whiskey Jim could almost perpetually smell on his breath. He considered feeling guilty about that but he wasn’t responsible for John’s decisions. Even with the drinking Jim was still fiercely loyal to the only adult who ever seemed to give half a fuck, although he was careful to keep away from the hospital wing so he wouldn’t draw Magnussen’s eye. The man himself called Jim into his office during the evening, it was dark and cold with a cloudless sky. Jim was determined not to fold, he’d made Sebastian and John pretty fucking miserable, Jim wasn't going to cave no matter what kind of pressure Magnussen put on him. He could thank his father for that much at least. “You asked for me?” Jim balanced against the doorframe insolently, not moving to enter the space and making it clear he didn’t want to be there. Jim had the scarf wrapped up in his pocket and he squeezed it as he steeled himself. He was unaware of his father and Sebastian crouched under the window.

  
"Yes. I did." Magnussen's voice was clipped and he looked at Jim disapprovingly. "And don't pretend you don't know why. I gave you a choice as to where you wanted to stay for Easter. With Sebastian, or with our mutual friend. Have you made your choice?"

  
Sebastian frowned, glancing at Moriarty who was grinning at him and flipping the man off, pretty sure that he'd been asked to lead Sebastian here. "I don't need to hear this." He whispered, "I know Jim's job, I know he's using me." He didn't move though, wanting to hear all he could.

  
Jim came in confidently, closing the door behind him and not sitting. Magnussen in a mood was terrifying in its own way but Jim had prepared himself. “I’m not going to do this anymore. Not this project anyway. Do what you have to do, I’m not afraid of you.” It was true, for the moment anyway. Jim had already resigned himself to Magnussen fucking him up and he’d made his decision at Christmas, it had just taken him an extra month to be at peace with it. “Giving you Sebastian wasn’t part of our deal. It’s not my fault that you weren’t up front with me and then rescinded on our deal. I notice my father is still looking as robust and healthy as always. Unless you’ve fed him a very slow acting poison.” Being sarcastic with Magnussen was just asking for a world of trouble but Jim didn’t have anything to lose.

  
"You do not get the reward until you have completed the task." Magnussen replied, his face shutting down completely at Jim's attitude. After a pause he stepped forward, grabbing Jim's chin and lifting it up, staring down at him. "Our 'deal' was for you to have a conduit to Augustus Moran. You no longer have that, therefore you are in no position to make demands. At the moment, you are of no use to me other than as entertainment for other, more loyal workers." Patting Jim's cheek he broke away, picking up an envelope from the table and handing it over. "Here are your tickets. You'll be having a very... busy two weeks. It is my hope that you return in a more pliant mood.”

  
“Well then you should have had me get close to Augustus then, shouldn’t you?” Jim was feeling daring, even as Magnussen gripped his chin hard with his sweaty hand. He took the tickets casually and shook his head. “Why do I have to go anywhere you tell me to? What are you going to do, send me somewhere _else_ to get buggered?”

  
"You have to go where I tell you because I own you." Magnussen said calmly, "I can have you killed, hurt, maimed, I can have people close to you killed, hurt or maimed. And yes, I can send you wherever I want to get buggered. Don't worry, you will not just be buggered. You will be beaten as well, hard and often. You will be treated the way you deserve to be treated, and you can either get on the train like a good little boy or you can wake up tied in the boot of a car going in the same direction. I'll see you when you get back and we can have another talk.”

  
“Like I give a fuck…” Jim snarled as he left, slamming the door behind him. That hadn’t exactly been a win but it was a loss for Magnussen too. Jim knew a lot of his projects had to be time sensitive and every day that Jim told him no made it more difficult for his plans to work. He turned to the side of the building and practically tripped over Sebastian in the dark. “The fuck?” Once he saw who it was Jim flipped his father off and scowled, reaching down to drag Sebastian away by the arm, not wanting to cause a scene right outside Magnussen’s window where he could hear. “You’re fucking spying on me now?” Jim hissed as soon as they were far enough away, shoving Sebastian against the wall of the storage shed.

  
"What, no!" Sebastian gazed at him, for the first time starting to realise just what Jim was up against. "Your dad just dragged me over, look... what is he going to do to you?" He sighed and slumped a little against the wall, not thinking that it looked a bit odd someone Sebastian's size letting Jim push him into things, "Look... if you really need to come to mine you can, okay? There's a separate room, the house is big enough that we don't have to see each other. If it's saving you from what he's got planned I'd rather you were safe at least. I don't hate you _that_ much.”

  
If Moriarty had dragged Seb over that meant Magnussen had planned it. Fucking bastard. “I think he was pretty fucking clear, or would you like something a little more explicit that you can wank to later? The old material must be getting a little stale.” Jim had not missed the way Sebastian exaggerated his little performances above his bed after the lights had gone out. “If I wanted to go to your house, I would have just asked.” Historically that wasn’t true but Jim didn’t feel like splitting hairs. “This is more complicated than that, you couldn’t understand the full situation just from a three minute conversation heard outside of a window!”

  
Sebastian looked down at him, his anxiety crowding out his anger for once, "I don't wank over you, you egotistical little shit. And it sounded pretty simple to me. You either come to mine or you get beaten and worse for two weeks. Maybe there is a 'full situation' behind it but I can't think of one that would mean you'd prefer getting hurt." He shrugged and then grit his teeth, grabbing Jim's shoulders and pushing him away. "Do what you want. Not like I can stop you.”

  
“I’m not surprised you can’t think of a reason why I’d prefer this - you have a very limited imagination.” The insult came out more teasing than anything and Jim chided himself for going soft. Impulsiveness hit him hard and when Sebastian pushed him, Jim grabbed the front of Sebastian’s uniform and stood on his tip toed to kiss him hard. Fuck but Magnussen was right, Jim was stupid. He had denied himself for two months now, having Sebastian close and worried about him, knowing what was coming for him gave Jim a sort of fatalistic freedom.

  
Sebastian's eyes opened wide with shock as Jim's lips met his and then they closed, his hands wrapping around Jim's shoulders and waist to hug him close as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into Jim's mouth to meet the boys own, feeling himself shaking a little. He'd just, almost just, managed to convince himself that the act was real, that Jim had been playing him, and had played him well, and now it was time for the schoolboy crush to end. But now Jim was kissing him, so desperately, so much like he was trying to let Sebastian know the truth that all he could say when Jim broke away was, "I-I - I still.... fuck I still... call me. If you need me. Call me.”

  
At least Sebastian wasn’t hitting him. That was good enough for Jim. He pushed him back against the wall as their kiss broke and Jim was on him, mouth attacking at Sebastian’s neck, his hands gripping the boy’s arse as he pressed a leg between his. “What are you going to do Rambo, hmm? Storm the castle? Believe me, I’ve ran the numbers. There’s nothing that can be done for me but I can be as big a pain in his arse as possible while he takes me down.” Jim moaned quietly, and scrabbling for whatever skin he could find.

  
The kiss had been wonderful, sweet and passionate, but Sebastian hadn't expected it to go any further and now Jim was fumbling at his clothes. He hesitated in an agony of indecision as to whether to push Jim away or dive on him, and then the leg giving his growing cock something to hump against, coupled with the hands on his arse made him moan, "D-don't, please don't use those train tickets. W-why are you doing this... to me..." Sebastian gasped, pushing his trousers down as Jim seemed to need more skin his hands wrapping protectively around Jim's waist. "D-don't let him take you down, you can, we can, stop him... please... ohhhh..." the moan was as Jim's hands were suddenly on his naked arse, with Jim's lips on his neck.

  
Jim ginned in triumph as Sebastian gave in to him after a few agonizing moments of indecision where Jim thought for sure he would push him away. Jim panted into Sebastian’s mouth, dizzy on their air and the heat from Sebastian’s body. “Don’t try and change my mind. I know what I’m doing.” Jim fumbled with his buttons, shivering in the cold air. “I’m doing this because I want one good thing, just for tonight you know - before break. I want you. Just once. Now come on in the shed where it’s warmer.” Jim pushed them both through the door and he kissed Sebastian before he started sorting through the kitchen supplies, Jim had a good idea of where everything was from doing inventory. “Found it…” He pulled out a bottle of olive oil and wiggled it in front of Sebastian’s face. “They used this as lube all the time in ancient Greece. Come here.” Jim starting on Sebastian’s buttons, his hands still moving with an intensity and determination that he couldn’t quite keep in check.

  
"Unh..." Sebastian managed, still very confused as to where Jim's loyalties lay, or what was quite going on, but he was now incredibly horny, kicking the shed door closed behind them and flicking the blot across, looking up at Jim with blown pupils as the boy held up a bottle of oil and then started tugging his shirt open, "F-fuck alright then..." This would be a bad idea, he knew, particularly as it meant he'd have to get over Jim all over again but right now he didn't care. He was being stripped and possibly fucked by the most amazing guy he knew. He reached down and pawed at Jim's arse as his shirt was taken off, kicking his trousers the rest of the way down.

  
Jim moved to the floor, pulling Sebastian down with him and on top of him nipping at his skin and just tasting him. Fuck he’d missed this, all he’d wanted was a chance to do this completely because he wanted to and now he had it. “No condoms. I accept the risk, it’s not going to matter soon anyway.” Jim doubted the sergeant and his friends were planning on using protection. He was alright with the possibility of Sebastian contracting something and giving it to him. At the rate he was going he didn’t expect to live long anyway. Jim finished stripping too, just taking a moment to look over Sebastian’s body, trying to decide where he wanted to start.

  
"W-we're both virgin's anyway, o-oww..." the floor was hard and Sebastian didn't care, it felt real, it felt grubby and he looked up at Jim with adoring eyes. "You know, s'like feeding a stray. You'll never get rid of me now." He murmured fondly, shivering again as Jim's eyes raked over him, as if trying to decide which bit of Sebastian he wanted to eat first.

  
Jim shook his head at Sebastian sadly, “You heard me. This doesn’t fix things. This is a - a last meal. Don’t get attached or you’re going to hurt later.” The storeroom was fucking cold but Sebastian was warm and Jim pressed against him harder. “Here, take the oil. I want you to fuck me but we’ll do it properly this time. I want it to be good for both of us.”

  
"I already am attached..." Sebastian wrapped arms and legs around him and then released one to grab the oil. "You want me to fuck you? Sure? You could do me... if you wanted..." It came out hesitantly and he growled at sounding so desperate, rolling over so that Jim rested on his arms and his arms rested on the ground. "This is such a _fucking_ bad idea, jesus, did I run over a busload of nuns in a previous life?" Grumbling, he nuzzled at Jim's neck his free hand snapping off the top of the oil and getting it over his fingers. "Fucking love you, Jim Moriarty. Could be - could've been yours. Remember that.”

  
Jim turned over so that he was facing Sebastian instead of the ground, “No, I want to see you. Even you’re prettier than a cold cement floor.” Jim teased. He felt regretful that Sebastian was going to be hurt by this, but Jim was too. They had both agreed to it if it meant they got to be with each other even for a short time. “I know - I know. I wish that things were different.” He watched Sebastian a little apprehensively but Jim was determined to get through it this time - maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much with lube. “You should save your arse for someone who deserves it. Besides I probably need the practice.” He tried to joke. Going into spring break with no idea what he was in for would be a mistake. 

"I don't want someone who deserves it..." Sebastian growled "...Save it for you. When you're ready. No matter how long I have to wait." His finger slid down between the cold firm little curves finding Jim's entrance and tapping and rubbing it gently, pushing out thoughts of what Jim would go through over the break and concentrating on kissing and loving his body instead, teeth nipping around his chest.

  
“You’re so fucking stupid…” Jim whispered raggedly before pulling Sebastian down on top of him and wrapping his arms around the other boy’s neck. “You’re arse is going to be a virgin for a long time if someone decides to dump me in the river. Come one, you know how to do this.” Jim spread his legs wider and pushed against Sebastian’s fingers. “It’s getting chilly and I want you to warm me up.” Jim grinned and gasped, arching up off the floor as Sebastian bit and kissed at his bare chest.

  
Sebastian grinned against his skin, licking and nibbling, kissing and biting along it while his fingers got to work, encouraged by the skinny arms wrapped around him, and the knowledge that Jim was both legal, and had only had sex with him. "Mmmm... oh you'll be warm alright, my hot little crazy boy." He mumbled into Jim's stomach, sliding down and wrapping his lips around Jim's cock, bobbing his head up and down it wile his second finger slid into Jim's opening.

  
Jim cried out as Sebastian wrapped his lips around his cock, no one had ever had him in the mouth before and he was struggling to keep his cool and not thrust up into Sebastian’s mouth. “Fuck! Fuck Seb… come on…” Jim put his hand on the back of Sebastian’s neck but he was careful not to grip too hard - he didn’t want Sebastian thinking of the sergeant when they were together like this. Jim felt Sebastian’s fingers inside him, it was very different from the first time when every movement felt like sandpaper scraping against his insides. Now it was slick pressure rather than raw friction. He was hard too which was a decided improvement over last time.

  
Sebastian moaned when he felt Jim's hand, but the pressure of cool little fingers, the smell of Jim and the taste of him was all so different from when the sergeant had humped into his mouth, not to mention that he was now leaning over the boy rather than on his knees. He bobbed his head lower, taking in as much as he could, squirming his fingers around and then dribbling more oil on them before adding a third. Suddenly he desperately and eagerly wanted to fuck Jim, wanted to see the answering fire in Jims eyes as they fucked, and his mouth sucked hard, tongue lathering around the head.

  
Jim gasped and moaned loud enough that if someone was walking by outside the door they would definitely hear him but Jim didn’t care. Nothing anyone here did could be worse than what was coming and there was a freedom in not having any real consequences. “Ah ah- fuck!” Jim laughed and shook his head, “Seb if you keep on like that I’m going to come before we even get started…” Part of him thought this was too soft, that Sebastian should be taking out his frustrations on him, that Jim himself should be more reluctant to let someone fuck him - not without fighting and wrestling it out anyway, but Jim was also pretty desperate for any kind of affection after feeling so thoroughly alone the last two months. “Your mouth - so good. See you’re so good.”

  
Sebastian slid back up and grinned back at him, blowing him a kiss and then twisting three fingers deep inside him, "Heh heh... nooooo wouldnt want you cumming before the fun starts." This seemed like a dream, surreal and wonderful, everything he'd ever wanted with the cruel condition that it would only be this one brief moment. Sliding up Jim's body he bit his lip, worrying it and growling, "Mmmm... let me know when you're ready for my cock to take you... take you like I should have the first time, all slick and ready and hot for me.”

  
Jim tugged the back of Sebastian’s neck until he was bending down over Jim for a kiss. “Mmmmm,” he groaned as Sebastian twisted three fingers inside him, moaning as Sebastian found his prostate. “Fuck - yeah. Yeah, okay. I want you inside me, it’s going to feel amazing.” Jim was hard and desperate for release after weeks of denying himself everything. “I’m ready just do it now. I don’t want to get caught.” Jim grinned and teased. “Although I’m sure Lestrade would be thrilled to see us getting along so well.”

  
"Oh he would..." Sebastian gave a laugh and kissed the side of his mouth sloppily, huffing happy laughs against his skin, "Is your finger okay? ...shit that was hard to do... did it though. For you... mmmmm..." He slid his fingers out and then poured some oil on his cock, slicking it up. For a moment he just looked down at Jim, eyes dancing, and then slowly started pressing inside him, watching Jim all the while, "Fuck that's... oh fuck..." the slick heat felt amazing and he groaned.

  
Jim couldn’t help tensing up as Sebastian pressed inside him, as much as he wanted this it had still hurt terribly last time and his body expected more pain. It was certainly a tight fit, especially with Jim clenching down around him but slowly Sebastian’s cock pressed inside while Jim held still, nervous that the wrong move would bring that awful pain back again. It didn’t hurt exactly but it was still a stretch and Jim struggled to breathe and relax, holding tightly to Sebastian’s arms.

  
Sebastian paused at Jim hesitated, watching the tight and scrunched little vulnerable body underneath him was setting off all sorts of feelings. He kept his arm braced under Jim's back, keeping him off the cold floor, while the other stroked gently at his sides and arms. "Mmmm... feels good. 'Sokay... I want to be slow this time, not just rocket off like crazy." He kissed under Jim's eyes then nibbled down his jawline. He could feel the fingers digging into his arms, and the thought of how both strong and tough and godawfully fragile the little thing underneath him was made him almost stop breathing, gently pushing in the rest of the way and then pausing again, nuzzling Jim's jaw. "Mmmm... say when you're ready kitten.”

  
“Slow… slow is good…” Jim was able to breathe a little easier now, he started to relax when the pain didn’t happen. Sebastian touching him helped, the light kisses were a distraction and Jim started to wiggle around experimentally. He felt hot and slick and spread open and vulnerable but it wasn’t bad and it didn’t hurt. “Okay… you can move… And if you call me kitten again I’ll scratch your eyes out.” He pulled Sebastian down for another kiss, moaning into his mouth as the boy started moving his hips.

  
Sebastian huffed a laugh into his mouth and then kissed him back, deep and eager, his hips slowly pressing back and forward. He groaned as his cock slid out of the tight slick grasping muscle, not going too far as he didn't want to give Jim the pain of reentry, rolling his hips about experimentally. His hand kept stroking Jim's body, feeling the curves of bone under the skin; the sharp angles of his hips, the little skin pressing against ribcage, the awkward press of his shoulderblades, and Sebastian realised he was falling madly and completely in love.

  
“Fuck I missed you,” Jim whispered as his hands stroked Sebastian’s back. “I didn’t have sex with Sherlock.” He pressed his lips rapidly to Sebastian’s face and neck and chest, trying to convey how sorry he was even though it had been for the best. “I’m sorry for all the shit I’m going to have to do… just promise me you’ll try and move on, yeah?” His breath caught as Sebastian pressed back inside of him and as he adjusted his body started to warm and precome leaked from his cock. “You feel so good…”

  
"You didn't...?" Sebastian kissed him gently, his brain far too involved in what was going on to work out why Jim had lied about that. He was just swirling on confusion now, but there was clarity in Jim - and sex. Right now there was sex with Jim and he smiled as Jim started to move around his cock, bumping his hips back and forth a little faster, "Mmm... can feel you all around me, 's amazing.”

  
“No, I didn’t. Turns out he’s Johns boyfriend or something and he’s ten years older than me. Makes it a bit awkward.” Jim gasped as Sebastian hit that spot inside him again, “Oh fuck do that again… Shit…” He moved his hips down against Sebastian’s trying to recreate the angle and get it just right. “It’s weird having someone else inside you but - ’s not bad. Feels kind vulnerable. I trust you though. Even after you put nettles in my bed…”

  
"That was... heh heh fuck that was evil wasn't it..." Sebastian suddenly felt absurdly guilty for telling the Sergeant about it on the phone, for laughing about it with him. He still wanted to visit the man, but he resolved suddenly that there would be no sex between them, just catching up with discussions about skills and techniques. He shifted his body, his thrusts becoming stronger and more secure, trying to do as Jim had asked and find the spot again.

  
Having sex together for the first time was exhilarating and terrifying and awkward at moments but they were both having a good time and no one was hurt so Jim was happy and felt like he’d made the right decision. They fumbled together as Jim fucked himself on Sebastian’s cock even as the other boy met his thrusts. After a few tries they hit that spot again and Jim cried out, muffling the noise into the skin of Sebastian’s neck. “You’re fucking evil but I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  
"Yeah?" Sebastian tried hopefully, "I'll get better though. Stronger, tougher. Even bigger." He moaned happily into Jim's neck as he heard the muffled cry, wrapping both arms around him and pulling him up into his lap, bouncing him down onto his cock and moaning, "Your evil, all yours. Really... oh fuck Jim…"

  
Sebastian pulled Jim into his lap and the new angle was just delicious, he gave a high little moan each time Sebastian bounced him on his cock and Jim clutched at Sebastian’s shoulders hard while he kissed him. “God I’m going to - Seb…” He pressed down hard a couple more times, wanting to really feel it tomorrow and he reached down to stroke himself as he came over both their stomachs. “Oh… fuck…” Jim came down, feeling floaty and exhausted almost high on the endorphins after being so miserable lately. 

Sebastian gave a little surprised yelp as Jim came all over them both, wrapping arms tighter around him and hugging him close as he thrust a few more times, whining high, and then came himself in a rush of relief. He didn't let go afterwards, hugging and holding Jim, kissing all over his chest, trying not to wail anything embarrassing, like begging Jim not to leave, or promising to take him to Argentina.

  
Jim hummed happily as Sebastian kissed him and he ran his hand through the stubble on the boy’s head. “Good? Fuck we’ve made a mess. I don’t want to leave yet.” Outside the storage shed everything wrong in his life was waiting - Magnussen and his father and all the other cadets, in here it just felt like the two of them and Jim wanted to revel in it for a few more minutes. Jim went limp and settled against Sebastian’s chest, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.

  
Sebastian pulled him away with a little whine of pain as the tight muscles clung to his shrinking cock and then wrapped his arms around the boy in his lap, kissing his hair and the side of his head, still shutting down all the words his mind was screaming at him to say. This was good - here and now it was good - and he wouldn't spoil that by saying anything too stupid.

  
As he floated there his mind began to form an idea, “Do you want to play a game Sebastian?” Jim grinned down at him and kissed him briefly. “We pretend to hate each other and do all sort of things to drive Lestrade up the wall but in reality we’re sneaking around and having sex, how does that sound to you?” He pinched Sebastian’s nose. He knew it wasn’t a perfect solution but it was something at least. He couldn’t make himself continue on the way they had been going but they weren’t safe either. If Jim could hide their relationship from Magnussen then he wouldn't have to put Sebastian in danger. They could be together.

  
Sebastian stared at him for a moment and then grinned widly, "You had me at 'having sex' - I'll give it a go. We've only got a month until the break any - oh..." He hesitated at the thought of that and then bit his lip, "You... you know how I feel about that, yeah, so I'm not going to keep saying it. It's your and Mags's thing, and if the only thing I can do for you is shag you rotten until you head off, well, I suppose I'll have to cope with that.”

  
Jim shook his head, “You heard him in there. It’ll just get worse for me if I antagonize him on top of denying him what he wants. It’s alright.” Jim petted at Sebastian’s face soothingly. “I resigned myself to it a while ago. I’ve made peace. I wasn’t going to tell you, I know it’s a lot to deal with. Mags is a rotten bastard, he knew what game I was playing.”

  
Sebastian was a bit lost with all these games and where the truth was, but there was one thing he had to know. Hesitating, he asked, "What was the game with me? Was it when you said you cared for me? Or when you said you didn't..." He was almost afraid of the answer and kissed Jim's eyelids, "You know - I almost wouldn't mind if you didn't - if this was all a scheme. I just want to be with you. It would - uh - be healthier though if you did. And better. I could beat the tosser up for you, when you're ready for me too. He's like a dried twig, he'd break in half.”

  
Jim sighed and shook his head, “I don’t know. I think I’m always playing games. I would be lying if I said that at first it wasn't a little crazy - I liked you but not enough that I genuinely wanted to take a dry cock.” Jim grinned a little and pressed a kiss to Sebastian’s temple. “I wasn’t in on what my da and the sergeant did. I really wasn’t. That was fucking terrifying. I just needed to make you hate me. I did the same thing to John… You wouldn’t have been able to pretend. Now maybe you can because you know what it feels like to hate me.”

  
"You made me hate you..." Sebastian felt the knowledge fill him and then hugged Jim tight, "Oh thank god, you wonderful little thing. Fuck yes." Was it the truth? He didn't know, and he knew from Jim's words he wasn't sure either, but they'd reached something that was truthful enough and he nodded, "Yeah. I can do it, don't worry. Might be easier than the other way, at least I won't feel like I'm trying to fucking self-destruct.”

  
“Yeah I know…” Jim hugged Sebastian back and didn’t know how to bring it up without scaring Sebastian but he didn’t want him to be unprepared either. “You know… It’s going to be bad for me over break. And that’s just his opening gambit. It could get worse the longer I tell him no. It might - get to a point where I don’t want to do it anymore, you know? I can’t run away, I can’t fight him. The only thing I can do is grit my teeth and hope I come through it okay but if I don’t, if I can’t… it would probably be easier if I just ended things myself instead of waiting for him to dump me in a river.”

  
Sebastian went a bit pale as Jim continued, but took a deep breath to control his anger and actually thought about it for once, looking down at Jim and stroking his fuzzy head, where the hair was starting to grow back. "Yeah. You know - I can understand that. Just... before you do it, just make sure you've thought through every option. Including the one where we betray John Watson, hang Holmes out to dry and stab Magnussen through the fucking heart with Moriarty's shinbone. You sure you can't fight him? At the moment you've got one strategy and one only, but maybe, just think of a few more, yeah? Even if it involves using Holmes, or me, or doing some seriously illegal shit. Because if you do shoot yourself in the fucking head you want to be damn well sure that it was literally the only way you could get exactly what you wanted. Not just because there's no light and the tunnel's caving in.

  
“Mycroft said that he’d come get me whenever I wanted but then I’d be doing exactly the same work for him. With the implication that if I ever do anything he doesn’t want he will send me straight back to Mags.” Jim cuddled in closer to Sebastian, starting to cool off and get a chill. He liked having his head rubbed. “I’ll never have my freedom again. Not unless I shoot both of them in the fucking head and even then with their resources I’d end up in prison for sure.” Jim grinned sadly. “I’ll keep trying. I’m not giving up. Mags might decide I’m useless and let me go. I’ll fight them every day over break. Worst fuck they ever had.” Jim shuddered in revulsion but didn’t say anything else, feeling resigned.

  
"Holmes wouldn't send you to his goons to be a fucktoy for two weeks." Sebastian said softly, but left it at that, just shuddered and pulled Jim close. He had a very real sense that when Jim got back he might be a completely different person, certainly not in the mood for sex or closeness, or possibly even for Sebastian. They stayed, clutching each other, until the cold and stickyiness started to seep in and then Sebastian sighed, standing and lifting Jim up, wrapping his jacket around him. "Alright, you scuttle off to the showers. I'll join you after a sensible amount of time goes by. Don't want anyone getting suspicious." Gently he kissed Jim's forehead and whispered a quiet, "Thank you. I'll keep up the deception. Won't let you down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: none


	3. I'm Not Broken!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is really dark, although most of it is exposition and not written in present time. If you are worried, please check the end notes for TWs.

Now he’s with Jim, it’s harder for Sebastian to keep his interest in the Sergeant but Lestrade is so bad, so crap, so completely out of his depth, that he can’t resist. He goes home first, mooches around the house, irritates his father and then finally gets on the train to the Sergeant’s new place – a sordid little shared house in London.

  
There are quite a few people in it; with music pumping from the attic and a suspicious smell of weed from the second floor. The door is opened by a tall blond man, clearly ex-army, with bruised knuckles and a gleaming smile. He fills most of the door and Sebastian takes a step backwards uncertainly before the Sergeant appears as well with a grin, “Seb! This is Cyric. Ignore him. Fucking glad you could make it. C’mon.”

  
They head down to the basement and Sebastian gives a welcome little moan as he sees that as well as the bed and small kitchen area there’s a whole training ground laid out. He’s already in slacks so he tugs off his hoodie as the Sergeant also strips down to his vest and tracksuit bottoms, giving the man a smile.

  
“Fucking missed this Serge, the new one’s useless.”

  
“Yeah?” The Sergeant starts to stretch and Seb follows through all the old moves, feeling actually excited about training for the first time since before Christmas. Now that he knows the assault of Jim was just an act he can almost forgive the man for it, relieved that he’s not actually capable of atrocities like taking an unwilling boy.

  
“Yeah.” He confirms. “No idea how to keep discipline. No idea how to knock a cadet into shape.”

  
The Sergeant shakes his head, “Useless. And you need a hell of a lot of knocking.” He grins and cuffs Sebastian’s head as the boy drops to start on press-ups. “Have to whip you back into shape.”

  
Sebastian gives a small shiver and thinks of Jim as hard as he can.

 

* * *

 

  
  
The training session is long and intense and by the end of it Sebastian’s muscles feel like jelly but he’s also wondering how he ever managed to decide losing the Sergeant was a good thing. He can still hear the thumping music from above, quirking an eyebrow at it as he collapses against the vaulting horse and gratefully catches a bottle of water that the Sergeant throws at him. The Sergeant chuckles and shakes his head. “Cyric. Oh he’s no metal-head. Just likes the noise. It drowns out... other noises.”

  
“Do I want to know?” Sebastian takes a gulp of the water and then hesitates as the Sergeant approaches, one hand brushing at a faded yellowing bruise on Seb’s temple.

“You don’t want to know...” the hand slides to cup his cheek, “Shall we finish on your knees soldier?”

  
Fuck he wants to say yes. Time with Jim is wonderful, stolen and precious, but Jim won’t fuck him, and when Sebastian tops he’s terrified as hell of hurting the boy. To be able to do it without fear – hot and sweaty and eager – with a man he half adores, that’s a tempting prospect. But he remembers the nail-marks Jim left in his skin their last time together. The bite at his ear, the word “mine” hissing into his skull.

  
“Rather not.” He manages a half smile and the Sergeant raises an eyebrow and steps back. 

“Still Moriarty’s bitch?”

  
“Something like that.” Sebastian chugs the water and then yelps as a fist smacks into his face sending him tumbling.

“On the floor soldier.”

  
Sebastian gets into press-up position automatically, his muscles groaning and protesting, “Fuck.”

  
“Is that how you speak to your superiors?”

There’s the hiss of a belt coming out of loops and Sebastian gives a heartfelt groan. “Oh fuck Serge, not now ...”

  
“You won’t get any if you don't keep it up like a good boy.”

  
Sebastian does one press-up and _fuck_ his arms are complaining. “How many?”

  
The Sergeant smirks down at him, doubling the belt over in his hands, “Just keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

 

* * *

 

  
By the end of _that_ session Seb is a mess, the belt’s been laid over every inch of him, snapping against his clothes to prevent bruises but still deliver maximum sting. He collapses eventually, lying down on the floor, hands over his head, as the Sergeant tries a few more snaps and then laughs as Seb mutters, “Fucking arsehole wanker” at the floor.

  
He squats down next to Seb, pats his bottom fondly, gives a smile, “Needed that did you?”

  
“Fucking bastard stinking fucker.”

  
“Thought you did.” He pats Sebastian’s bottom again, and then tugs his trousers down, planting a knee in the small of Seb’s back as he tries to move. “Come on now, soldier, don’t be an idiot. You really want to be a bitch boy’s bitch boy all your life?”

  
“Wha-?” Sebastian struggles weakly but he has no muscles left. His tracksuit bottoms are somewhere around his knees now and he knows he’s hard. A firm hand is kneading at his exposed arse and he squirms and whimpers, “No... fuck c’mon Serge, I don’t wanna...”

  
“Stop being a twat Seb.” A few hard slaps to his inner thigh spread his legs and suddenly this isn’t a game anymore, it’s frighteningly real. Sebastian bucks and struggles and then screams as his arse-cheeks are roughly tugged apart.

  
“Oh fuck no... you can’t...”

  
“Three things you need, Sebastian Moran.” The Sergeant’s hands and knee are holding him still, a fingers claws against his entrance and then slaps him directly over it as he bucks again, on arms that feel weak as a kitten, “You need to be trained hard, beaten hard and fucked hard. Never got around to the third one.”

  
He feels sick, terrified, clawing at the floor and desperately trying to stop it as the finger suddenly forces it’s way in, and then he almost feels like crying. Not just because it’s going to be hard, and painful, and unwanted, but because it won’t be Jim. His first time, and it won’t be Jim.

  
The finger is still clawing inside him as the door bursts open and Sebastian lets out a grateful sob, yelping and struggling harder, not wanting the person outside to mistake this for anything consensual. His hope dies down a bit as he sees it’s Cyric, framed in the door for a second, before flinging a small body into the room by the hair, a body that immediately drops in front of Sebastian’s startled face.

  
“Simon, can we swap?” Cyric complains, “Can’t stop him biting my dick and yours at least seems to be cooperating.

  
Sebastian bucks again because he’s _not_ cooperating, and then gives a pained gasp as he notices who the body is. Jim – wearing a dirty torn T-shirt far too large for him, hanging off one shoulder, showing off bruises and marks from what look like multiple things he’s been hit with.

  
The finger slides out of him as the Sergeant snaps, “What part of ‘do not disturb me tonight’ do you not understand?”

And Sebastian finds strength somewhere to push himself away, snarling and growling like a feral creature as he immediately crouches over Jim’s body, glaring at the Sergeant in disgust and betrayal. His heart is hammering, thudding fast as one hand drops down to gently and worriedly brush along Jim’s shoulder. “You fucking _cunt_ \- what did you do to him?”

 

* * *

 

  
When spring break finally came Jim waited until Sebastian left, glaring at him when in reality he was thinking about the time they’d spent together the night before, before getting his own ride to the train station. Magnussen was going out of town that day so he offered to drive Jim there. So thoughtful. Mags spend the time in the car trying to convince Jim he was serious, Jim should really just give in now before he got wrecked, it wasn’t too late to go to Sebastian’s… He didn’t even bother telling Mags to fuck off after the first few minutes, just let all of it turn into noise. Jim’s plan was to be as big a pain in the arse for the sergeant and his friends as possible, to fight and scream and cuss, but ultimately to get through whatever they did to show Magnussen that he would always fight him and that these tactics wouldn’t work on him. He was his father’s son after all, Jim knew how to keep from folding when he had an enemy in front of him.

  
He didn’t bother bringing much on the train, preferring to leave all of his valuables and anything he cared about with John. He regretted having to leave the scarf behind along with his other most valuable possessions. Instead he packed a few disposable essentials and some of his rattiest clothes and that was it. Jim wouldn’t give them more things to use against him than they already had. When Magnussen got out of the car he helped Jim retrieve his duffle from the trunk and bend in to give Jim a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Mags might have said something ominous and threatening but Jim couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears.

  
The Sergeant was there to greet him when he got off the train. He seemed very pleased to see Jim, certainly having his own fuck toy pleased him, but the sergeant obviously still had something against Jim so some of that enthusiasm was dulled, thank fuck. They didn’t say much on the drive to the little run down house and Jim repeated a mantra in his head over and over again, slowly shutting himself away where they couldn’t get him.

  
He was introduced to the other men that lived there, a surprising number of people. Jim thought they were probably all involved with a job for Mags and were living together for his convenience. He knew that not all of them were gay of course, but who would turn down a blow job or a chance to beat the snot out of some kid who insisted on rebelling?

They took his things from him and then took his clothes off of him. Jim was led up to the attic, it was hot and stuffy and he felt suddenly like he couldn’t breathe. One of them tried to grab him, hold him so that they could tie him down to the bed but Jim fought him and ended up breaking the man’s elbow. After that they were more cautious but all the more determined to have him restrained. They all came at him at once and Jim didn’t have a chance to fight them off like that. They zip tied his wrists behind his back and knocked him over onto the floor where they kicked him and beat him. When he was bloody and bruised and not moving the Sergeant grabbed him up off the floor and tossed him on the bed so that Cyric could fuck him while the rest of them jeered and laughed. Some of them masturbated or tried to talk the Serge into letting them shove a cock in his mouth. Jim just grinned the whole time and laughed until they slapped him and shoved a cloth in his mouth to keep the noise down. The men were absolutely sure that Jim was insane and sometimes it made them nervous.

  
It went on like that for a week, Jim lost track in the attic where there was no natural lighting. He wasn’t just kept to the attic though, they had him washing dishes, doing laundry, cooking, and even scrubbing toilets. The Sergeant finally got the chance he wanted and he watched while Cyric fucked Jim with the toilet brush. He kept fighting though, he left bruises and bit them until they bled. The first time he bit someone’s cock one of the men - Cyric went out and bought an O-ring gag so that he couldn’t bite. If Jim didn’t behave after that, the gag got left in after he was left alone and his jaw would ache so bad it would bring tears to his eyes. Jim didn’t cry though, he never gave them the satisfaction. He liked to think that the men respected his spirit if nothing else.

  
Cyric was rapidly getting more attached to Jim than the others, he would come up with new things to make Jim do, new ways of breaking him down psychologically, dehumanizing him. Mostly Jim just hurt all over. They beat him hard and often, just like Mags promised. They fucked him hard and often too. It was difficult not to fall into despair, not to let them win and cry or ask them to stop. Jim didn’t though, he was too strong and too angry for that. He swore to God he was going to burn this fucking house to the ground though.

  
By the fourth day Jim felt like he was pissing or shitting blood on alternate days after all of the bruising done to his kidneys with the beatings and the rough fuckings that could tear him. He was exhausted and beaten down but determined to get through it. Cyric played loud metal music in the attic for days at a time to keep Jim awake and off balance.  

  
Jim had destroyed the O-ring gag, someone left a safety pin lying around and Jim was able to find a bobby pin stuffed in the couch, it was enough to unlock the chest they kept toys in and he destroyed as many as he was physically able to. Cyric had beaten him hard for that, so badly that most of Jim’s face was swollen and he knew a couple of his ribs were broken. It was worth it when the man tried to put his cock in between Jim’s swollen and cut lips and he’d been able to bite again. After a while Cyric gave in, hissing and muttering angrily over Jim’s disobedience as he dragged him downstairs by the hair. Jim was really starting to see the perks of a buzz cut and was actually looking forward to getting his hair cut when he got back to school. He could hardly move anymore he hurt so bad so it wasn’t that difficult to remain limp while Cyric dragged him down the stairs, legs thumping on every step until they reached the basement. Jim had been down here a few times with the sergeant but the man was there now with another boy pinned underneath him. Between his eyes swelling shut and the blood in his eye blurring his vision Jim wondered vaguely if he was having an out of body experience and was seeing himself underneath the sergeant. Then Cyric threw Jim down on the ground and when he managed to squint his eyes open Jim saw it was Sebastian’s face staring back at him, not his own.

  
It was then that Jim felt like he’d lost his god damn mind. “No.” He said forcefully, sitting up and ignoring how much it hurt his ribs as Sebastian tried to hunch over him. “This is not part of the fucking deal. Sebastian, get your things, I’m taking you to the train station, come on. Come _on.“_ Jim yanked at the other boy, stumbling up to his feet and snapping his teeth at Cyric’s fingers threateningly as he tried to grab him. “Fuck off Cervix.” He would get Sebastian out of the house and on a train back home. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He wasn’t supposed to see this. “I can’t fucking believe you,” Jim hissed at the Sergeant. “You’re an animal. One day I’m going to put you down.”

  
"Train station?" Sebastian managed confused.

Cyric watched them both eagerly, "Hey, Simon, maybe we could get them both to fuck each other? It would be so fucking hot... two little twinks..."

  
The Sergeant rounded on him slapping Jim back as the boy reached for some clothes and snarling, "Sebastian is _not_ a fucking twink, you bloody moron. You got the whore, just because you broke it doesn't mean you can burst in here and fuck up me and my soldier-boy getting together." Sebastian gave another snarl, still unsure what was happening, but knowing that Jim wanted to get out. Pushing himself into a wobbly upright he flung himself at the door, whimpering as Cyric easily batted him back. With a groan the Sergeant hustled Cyric out, shutting and locking the door behind them. There was the sound of the two of them having a furious argument outside before the Sergeant banged on the door and shouted, "Sebby? Have a think, yeah, have a think about where your loyalties lie."

  
He stepped back as something heavy hit the door from Sebastian's side and there was a roar of "Oh I'm _fucking_ thinking.”

  
Jim whirled on Cyric with a snarl as he suggested Jim and Sebastian have sex as a form of entertainment for them. “No. I will rip your balls off, do you hear me? Fucking touch him and I’ll - ow!” The Sergeant gave him a smack and Jim hissed as it aggravated the bruising in his face. “I’m not broken! And I’m not a whore you useless twat.” He was wobbling on his feet and hardly noticed Sebastian going for the door, he was so busy keeping his one functioning eye on the threats. They left Jim and Sebastian locked in the basement and Jim listened to them have it out for a minute before the adrenaline wore off some and he decided to stumble to the kitchen sink and started thoroughly washing his mouth out with the hand soap, hoping to get the taste of Cyric’s dick out of his mouth.

  
Sebastian flung one of the dumb-bells at the door as the Sergeant shouted at him, snarling and then turning to look at Jim. The shot of adrenaline was still powering him and he moved automatically to the sink, patting Jim's shoulder gently then opening the drawer under the sink and pulling out a first aid kit. "C'mon... fuck, you look... shit are you okay?" He mumbled, pulling himself over to the bed and trying to help Jim there. He felt cold and shaky, unable to believe that the Sergeant had been about to do that, to fuck him, and that he'd had such a narrow escape. It was also just starting to hit him that this was where Jim had been, braving this sort of mistreatment for the last week.

  
Even though Jim knew Sebastian meant to be gentle his body still felt like one big bruise and every little touch hurt, sleeping hurt, sitting hurt, there wasn’t any way to get comfortable but he appreciated the gesture anyway. When he’d rinsed his mouth until the soap stopped sudsing in his mouth Jim let Sebastian lead him over to the bed. He felt hollow and numb, Jim had completely failed to keep Sebastian safe which was a big fucking part of why he was doing this. “Hey… it’s alright.” Sebastian was still visibly upset, probably from what the Sergeant was trying to do to him. “You’re okay now. He won’t touch you again, I’ll break his fucking hands.”

  
"You think I'd let him come anywhere near me again after that fucking stunt?" Sebastian snarled, still feeling horribly betrayed and hurt. Opening the first aid kit he looked at Jim helplessly, not even knowing where to start. Clean, clean would be good first step. Going over to the sink he grabbed an empty bowl and filled it with warm water, then scrambled around in the drawers for a piece of cloth he could use, settling for a clean shirt. "Get that T-shirt off." He said gently, "I'll clean you and stop things getting infected at least, then we can worry about the bigger injuries. I've got my phone, s'in my hoodie pocket, I mean I don't think there's signal in this basement but as soon as I find some we can call an ambulance. Or Watson, or whoever. Fuck..." He was shaking with rage now, coming over with the warm water and tearing the shirt to get a piece of cloth from it.

  
Sebastian snarled at him and Jim leaned away, feeling wary of the other boy and his temper when his body really couldn’t deal with Sebastian lashing out at him right now. Jim was just so fucking tired. He wanted to feel more sympathy but he couldn’t, he didn’t know what Sebastian was even doing here. “How did you get here? Did he - take you? You weren’t spying or hanging around outside, where you? I told you to leave it alone.” Jim fumbled with the t-shirt, pulling it over his head and wincing as the movement pulled at his injuries. He wasn’t self conscious being naked in front of Sebastian, he hadn’t been in a long time. “Good. Don’t use your phone at all until we can get out. We have no idea how long that’s going to be and your battery needs to last.”

  
"I came here." Sebastian said shortly, dipping the cloth into the warm water and gently starting to clean Jim's body, starting at the top of his shoulders, clenching his back teeth together at the bruising and marking over the pale skin. As well as everything Jim didn't look like he'd been allowed a wash for a while, and his skin was covered in dirt, cum and blood. "Just wanted another training session, a proper one. Wanted to see him, you know. I mean I did like him." He sighed, mistaking Jim's expression and saying quietly, "Don't worry, I'm not going to get angry or mad at you, just fucking pissed at him. He was going to rape me. He actually would have done it if Cyric hadn't walked in. Bastard.”

  
Jim froze up as Sebastian confessed that he’d come here on purpose, intending to just _hang out_ with his rapist. Jim slapped Sebastian hard across the face once. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jim hissed out and shoved Sebastian away. “How fucking _stupid_ can you be? I told you to stay out of this, don’t tell me that you didn’t realize where I was going, how many pedophiles with a grudge do you think Mags knows, huh? Why is this just coming as a surprise to you? He’s a fucking rapist, that’s what he _is_ why are you surprised he went from coercion to force when you said no? You can’t just - you can’t trust people like that Seb!” Jim’s voice had gotten a little hysterical, he’d thought he could trust Sebastian to at the very least keep himself safe during break, that there was one thing he didn’t have to worry about and instead Sebastian was visiting rapists in their homes and now he was stuck here with Jim and he was going to get hurt. Jim slapped him again and hissed, “How can you be so stupid? You had one job!”

  
Sebastian gave a surprised yelp as Jim slapped him, mouth dropping open as Jim suddenly started hissing at him angrily. "He's not a pedophile for fucks sake, and Mags knows thousands of people, all across the country. I never dreamt you'd end up here of all places... oww!" The second slap was a little more expected and, he was starting to feel, deserved, but he still felt he had to defend his own intelligence. "For your information he has _never_ raped me before, or anyone else." He muttered back, rubbing his reddening cheek sulkily. "He was only ever nice to me, yeah, maybe a bit of rough-and-tumble tough love, but he was the only person who seemed fucking impressed with me. Even you - even you get fed up when I get mean sometimes, break the law, break things, hit people like that Sherlock. But him? He thought I was the fucking dogs bollocks. I've only ever been misbehaving trouble, and he thought I was fucking _worth_ something." It came out bitterly, now that the idol has smashed. "So fucking sue me I didn't work out he just thought i was worth a shag. It was nice, for a bit, to actually have a fucking boss. Someone watching my back, teaching me, and not making me feel guilty and shite when I fucked up, just cuffing me round the head and moving on..." and then the misery rose up in anger and he turned on Jim, although didn't raise his hands or threaten. "How would you know? You've only ever been mistreated. You don't know what it's fucking _like_ to be able to relax around someone, someone you trust and someone who cares for you, alright?”

  
Jim had all of these things planned to say - rebuttals and holes to poke in Sebastian’s weak argument but all of that left him in a rush as Sebastian turned on him. “I don’t have anyone who cares for me?” Jim asked quietly and pointedly, feeling chilled to the bone and angry. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” With that he turned away from Sebastian and crawled up on the bed, curling on his side because it was the most comfortable position he could find and pulling the blankets over himself so that he wouldn’t have to look at Sebastian.

  
"What?" Sebastian's self-centered angst was temporarily delayed as he stared confused at Jim's response, his eyes widening as he replayed what he'd said, "Shit, no. That's... that's not what I meant. I mean, fuckit Jim, I... I sodding love you. You know that. But... look at you. You're a mess and I couldn't stop that. I care for you, like, fucking emotionally, but I _can't_ care for you physically, not like I want to, not like I should. I had to watch while you came here..." He sighed and put the warm water on the floor, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes. "He was the boss." He mumbled, "He told me to jump and I did. What I mean is... I'm not that for you. _You're_ that for you. And I know you won't understand but sometimes it's fucking nice not to have to work out when you need to jump all the time. Because let's face it, I completely fuck things up when I'm left to get them done myself.”

  
Jim pulled the blankets down far enough that he could peek out at Sebastian with his one squinty eye while he rambled. He had to admit the boy certainly looked lost and contrite. “’S not your fault.” Jim might be doing this in part for Sebastian but that didn’t make it his fault. He shook his head, “That’s not true. That’s just a lie he’s told you so that you’ll need him. I would trust you to get things done by yourself. You’re stubborn, even if you don’t get it right the first time you’ll keep trying until you do.” Jim tugged the blankets down fully and gestured for Sebastian to come over so that he could continue with helping Jim clean up.

  
"Yeah well I've been trying a fucking long time now and you're still getting violently beaten by crazy sqaddies." Sebastian murmured, coming over closer and picking up the water again. He kept his eyes down as he cleaned Jim up, his mind still trying to process the betrayal he'd just had, and the consequences it had led to. He'd just finished washing Jim when there was a bang on the door and he jumped, startled, growling as it opened and Cyric loomed in, slamming it and locking it behind him.

"Am I disturbing anything ladies? Calm down you silly fucking puppy, Simon wants you out, don't worry. And I get to give you the beating your daddy never did." He was holding a rattan cane behind his back and he swished it through the air happily then pointed it at Jim, "You - bitey-whore - you going to stay put while I get this done or do I have to tie you to the bed?”

  
“Dunno Cervix,” Jim grinned ferally. “What do you think? You’re going to let him go after you whack him a few times? Be my guest.” Jim still had to keep up the charade that they were feuding. And to be completely honest he wasn’t worried for Sebastian. This was a caning, not a beating, no one was going to rape him or insert anything inside him that didn’t belong there. He could deal with one caning and get the fuck out of here. He might even like it, Jim didn’t know. It was better to appear like he was behaving for once and have his hands free just in case things went too far.

  
Cyric gave a delighted grin, "Fucking finally! Alright you, cooperative whore, you gonna get over that vaulting horse or do I have to kick your little friend in the kidney's first?" Sebastian scowled, giving Jim a glance before coming over, standing in front of Cyric like a truculent schoolboy. "Good boy. Now... over the fucking horse." Cyric said slowly, deliberately, and Sebatian flushed hotly before obeying, flushing even more as Cyric casually yanked his sweats down to his knees. He could feel his legs trembling, and suddenly felt very young and small, letting out a yowl as Cyric gently tapped his naked backside, still just a little pink from the sting of the belt. "Alright! He is so fucking disappointed in you, you know. He didn't even want to beat you, or hurt you. But he'll let me. Know why? Because he's a wimp. He's had you for months and not properly licked you into shape." Raising the cane he slashed it down hard and Sebastian hissed, grabbing at the edge of the vaulting horse to stop himself straightening up.

  
Jim scowled at Cyric but just pulled the oversized shirt over his head again, wanting to cover as much of his skin while in the man’s presence as possible. He tugged the blankets over himself too but he was honestly so fucking tired and his body hurt, it was taking all of his willpower not to just doze off on the bed. Sebastian needed him to stay alert while still giving him as much privacy as he was able to afford him. They’d let Sebastian go - one little caning was worth that. “Ohhhh, I’m not enough for you, hmmm? You’re going to hurt my feelings, limp dick.”

  
Sebastian really wished Jim would shut up right now. Having to face something so humiliatingly painful was bad enough without being reminded that Jim was taking it all in, while in a much worse state, that Sebastian had been unable to protect him from. Cyric didn't hold back either, slashing the ratten cane at his arse and the back of his legs with full force, making his feet kick and his breath catch and whimper. "You were pretty good." Cyric admitted, "But too fucking difficult! I mean resistance, yeah, that's fun. Biting my dick even when I practically knocked your teeth out? That's just a pain. Still don't know how you managed to get that gag off." He stopped for a second, looking down at the stripes on Sebastian's shaking body and giving a grin at Jim, "Want to see? Got a long way to go yet, but it's looking damn pretty over his soldier's tan. Pity I'm not allowed to play more games with him, remember that toilet brush? That'd get him obedient, ramming that in and out of him." Sebastian gave a little keening noise of protest, that ended in a cry as Cyric started up again, slashing down harder, overlapping the lines with fresh ridges from the cane.

  
Jim wasn’t really aware of Sebastian’s self consciousness in this situation, he had been raped in front of a group of men, he had been fucked with a toilet brush while the Sergeant whacked one off. Jim didn’t have any modesty left and didn’t consider that Sebastian might want to conserve his. “I’m thinking about listing my arse on Yelp, I hope you’ll leave a positive review.” Yes, he remembered the fucking toilet brush, that had only been yesterday. He could practically still feel it, fucker. “No games. You stick to our agreement and you let him go - that’s it, and I’ll think about leaving your eyes in your skull when I get out of here.”

  
"That's very kind of you, little bitey-whore." Cyric chuckled, "And don't worry, he'll remain unravished. Just with a few fewer layers of skin over his arse." He did a few backstrokes across the bruised flesh and Sebastian choked back a sob, sniffling as Cyric gently ruffled his hair. "Look at this, see? Moriarty couldn't break him. Simon couldn't break him. I can. It's this isn't it... being a treated like a naughty little boy in front of your boyfriend when all you want is to impress him. Heh. See that's Simon's problem. He treats you like a soldier. But you fucking aren't, you're a kid playing games." He didn't let up with the cane as he spoke and Sebastian was starting to cry out now, his voice choked and desperate as Cyric lit a fire across his skin. He wanted to turn around and fight, and much as he desperately tried to convince himself that he was staying put to help Jim, he knew he wasn't. His muscles were like jelly, his backside a hideous raw mass of pain, it felt like Cyric must be down to the bone already. Any fight at the moment would, he knew, consist of one wobbly attempt to hit Cyric in the face before being slammed back over the vaulting horse. Cyric paused for a second and adjusted the angle, snapping the cane up hard and mercilessly into the crease where Sebastian's arse curved into his legs, grinning as Sebastian shrieked and kicked.

  
Jim frowned and waited around until he’d decided that was enough and he honestly just didn’t want to listen anymore. Sebastian was practically crying and Jim decided he’d had enough of a scare earlier with the sergeant. “Alright, that’s enough.” Jim said as he stood to his feet, keeping a wince back. “You’ve had your fun - let him go home now. If you don’t stop now I’m seriously going to hurt you.” Jim meant every word even though he could hardly see with his eyes blackened and swollen shut. His hands and his legs were relatively undamaged — he was still hurting but he had enough in him that he could still hurt Cyric pretty badly if he was able to move fast enough.

  
Cyric looked over at him carefully, raising an eyebrow and pointing the cane at him. "Sit back down. He said I should stop when I broke skin and I don't intend to stop until I do. Don't make me tie you down, you'll only get injured and rupture something.” Sebastian gave a choked noise that sounded like it might be a word and Cyric bent over to listen, "Hmm? What was that? Oh c'mon Sebby, _I_ know you're a misbehaving little posh brat but _you_ still think you're some sort of brave cadet. Fucking act like one and take your punishment.” Keeping his eyes fixed on Jim he slashed the cane down again, smiling as Sebastian broke into sobs, "There we go. You ever seen him do that before? Fucking hopeless." He was striking slower now, more deliberately aiming at the most bruised and swollen parts of Sebastian's skin, trying to get the damage he'd been promised, still looking at Jim meaningfully, "Stay where you are bog-brush or I'll damage your other kidney. And I've been reliable informed you need at least one of those to stay upright. It'll be over soon and you can pick up what's left of your pet soldier boy and see how long you both last half-dressed and bloody this side of the river.”

  
Jim lunged, ramming his head into Cyric’s chin to fuck up his balance, desperately trying to remember everything his father taught him about fighting. Jim just grabbed for Cyric’s throat, squeezing tightly with both of his hands and trying to get the man down on the ground where Jim could have more leverage.

  
Cyric gave a surprised yell as Jim attacked him, wrestling the boy over onto the ground and lying on top of them, his cock, hard and heavy from the punishment he'd subjected Sebastian to, pressing into the small of Jim's back. "Do you really want this?" He demanded, sounding cross, "After everything your posh little bitch boy's been through today you really want him to listen to me fucking you into the floor while he lies over the horse making pathetic noises?" Standing up he hauled Jim after him, giving him a shake, "If I hit you anymore part of you will fall off." He said exhasperated, going over to the door and hauling it open, flinging Jim outside and then as an afterthought, flinging Sebastian's hoodie after him. "There you go. Phone a friend, because neither of you can walk. I'll finish up in here." And with that the door was shut and bolted in Jim's face.

  
Jim yelped unhappily as Cyric pinned him to the floor, a knee digging into his bruised kidney painfully. For a second he really thought that the man was going to fuck him in front of Sebastian and Jim struggled desperately underneath him, hissing and cussing. It was almost a relief when he threw Jim out of the room, although he was unhappy that him and Sebastian were alone together now. He dug through Sebastian’s pockets with shaky hands until he found the phone and then he dialed the number from memory. It rang a few times and Jim had a desperate hysterical moment when he thought John wasn’t going to pick up — that he was drinking or sleeping it off and he wouldn’t answer. But he did and Jim sagged with relief. “Hey, uh — sorry, but I need you to come get me. And Sebastian. I’m not sure of the exact address. Can you meet us somewhere?” Jim was hoping they wouldn’t have to walk far but he wouldn’t have wanted John coming to this house even if he could remember the house number.

  
John answered the phone with a slightly bleary, "Mycroft?" before straightening up and focusing when he heard it was Jim, "Jim! Yes, of course. Um... I'm still up North at the centre unfortunately but... where are you?" He'd been worried when Magnussen had picked Jim up, not quite believing that Jim had just been taken to do a job for one of Magnussen's little projects, or if it was true he was highly suspicious of the nature of the project. Just hearing Jim's voice was reassuring enough although he frowned as he thought he heard a high pitched crying muffled in the distance, "Are... are you alright?" He asked cautiously. "If you need immediate rescuing I, well, Mycroft's in London…"

  
Too far away then to come get them, too far for Jim’s tastes anyway. He didn’t want to wait here for an hour — they could disappear into the city for a bit but Jim was going to attract attention with the shape his face was in and he didn’t actually have any pants or trousers. They’d taken his duffle on the first day and Jim honestly had no idea where it was and wasn’t interested in sticking around to find it. “I’ll — yeah I’ll call him next. Can you call him in about five minutes and ask where he wants you to meet us. We should — we need a doctor so, yeah. It would be nice if you were available but if you’re… not good to drive or something I’m sure Mycroft could find someone trustworthy.” Jim wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying and how it could be interpreted, like he had no faith in John’s ability to be around when he needed him.

  
John looked unhappily at the phone, not missing the implications of being 'not good to drive'. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He said gently. "Do you have Mycroft's number or would you like me to call him? Where can you meet him?"

Behind Jim the door opened and Cyric came out, triumphantly dropping two pieces of broken rattan at John's feet. "There you go, he's all yours. Feel free to land a few stripes yourself if you want, he's not going anywhere. I told Simon, I told him he wasn't doing it properly. You can't train a kid up by treating them like a soldier and hoping they'll catch on. Break them down then build them up." He gave Jim a wink and headed back up to the attic where, shortly, the thumping metal started playing again.

  
“Uh…” Jim wanted to answer John but Cyric had just come out and he needed to make John wait. “Good on you, big strong man beating on a kid, doing — you know, hurting me the way you did… you’re a pathetic.” Jim pulled the phone back to his ear and felt really desperate for the first time now that he was faced with his freedom early. They needed to get out immediately, before the sergeant realized Cyric’s mistake and kept Jim from leaving too. “Just — tell him to track the phone. He can do that, right? I need to go. Text me with the confirmation.” Jim had to hang up then and he got shakily to his feet, trying to shuffle along as quickly as possible. “Seb get your clothes back on, here’s your hoodie. We need to leave before they realize I’m leaving too. I’m not staying here. Come _on.“_

 

  
Back in the room Sebastian was bent over the horse still, his arse a mess, bruised and grazed from the top of the curve to halfway down the back of his thighs. It took him a while to move and when he did he just grabbed the hoodie, pulling it on automatically and trying to tug it down at the back over his red and purple bottom, hot tears flooding down his cheeks as he realised he couldn't "Just... just go..." he murmured, voice low and throat raw. "'M fine. Just... you go.”

  
Jim turned around and slapped him, holding back a lot of the force but hoping to surprise Sebastian out of his funk. “No. You don’t get to do this. Mope later, whatever you need to do. But right now you’re going to pull your fucking trousers up and get yourself together because I need you to, understand? I’m not leaving you here. Get your shit together Moran, someone’s coming to get us now.” Jim bit his lip hard as he shakily bent over and started to pull up Sebastian’s pants and trousers for him, hoping that every bit of motivation would help even if bending over hurt badly enough to bring tears to his eyes.

  
Sebastian stumbled back as Jim slapped him, looking completely lost with eyes glazed confused. He snapped back a bit as Jim bent over, taking another step back and tugging his sweatpants up, ignoring the tears that started again at the pain. Having started crying he couldn't seem to stop. Stumbling to the seargent's cupboard he pulled out another pair of drawstring trousers and gave them to Jim before stumbling back over to the door, "Right... yeah... lets fuck off..." he mumbled.

  
That would have to be good enough. Jim had to hold his breath when he pulled his own trousers up, any movement at his waist was agony. He wasn’t sure how he was going to walk fast enough and far enough to get away, especially with Sebastian in the state he was in. Jim could barely see and he had to hold onto Sebastian’s arm as they went up the stairs so that he didn’t trip. They made it outside without incident and Jim tried to pick up their pace, wanting to put as much distance between them and the house as possible before the Sergeant realized what had happened. They walked for about twenty minutes in silence, Jim leading them away from the main roads and in between buildings and through parking lots instead. It got to the point where he couldn’t go any further and he struggled not to lean more on Sebastian than he absolutely needed to.

  
Sebastian let Jim hang onto him but it wasn't until they were a certain distance away that he actually felt his brain recover enough to wrap an arm around Jim. Unfortunately it also recovered enough to set his entire body shaking and have him muttering "Fuck... fuck..." over and over, huddling Jim into an abandoned doorway and wrapping arms around him, just keeping them both still. He jumped as his phone went off, answering it with a mumble and then handing it to Jim. "'S for you. Mycroft Holmes.”

  
Jim felt a bit of relief as Sebastian responded and wrapped an arm around him, even if it hurt, but then he started muttered and shaking and Jim knew he was close to having a breakdown. The doorway was private enough and wasn’t visible from the main road so Jim thought they would be okay. Sebastian held him and Jim stayed relaxed and pliant, allowing the contact even though being held and pinned against a wall set his teeth on edge and basically any physical contact was guaranteed to hurt when his body was like this. Jim had been running on adrenaline but it was wearing off fast — his body was in shit condition and this was his third day without sleep. When Sebastian handed him the phone Jim leaned his head, exhausted, against Sebastian’s chest. “‘Lo? Yeah. So what are you going to make me promise you in exchange, hmmm? Have I got to fucking sell you my soul in exchange for a glorified cab driver?”

  
There was a small silence on the other end of the phone and then Mycroft said in an exhasperated voice, "No... I want you to tell me what the nearest street-sign is to you. I can't see you." Above them, a small CCTV camera uselessly swivelled above the doorway, their two bodies blocked out by the wall next to them. At the top of the road was a sleek black car which, as soon as the street was confirmed, drove slowly towards them. The door opened and Mycroft peered out, taking one look at Jim and snapping, "St. Barts, quick as you can." to the driver.

  
Sebastian looked at the car warily, stubbornly shaking his head, "Don't wanna... don't wanna sit down.”

  
"Stop bitching..."  Jim hissed and bit at his lip as he slid into the car. He tried to lean on his hip to keep pressure away from directly on his arse. "No hospitals, he's going to find me. Too many questions at a hospital. John can see to it after he gets here..." Jim didn't know how long it would take but hopefully not too long. He was just grateful that he would be speeding away from that fucking house.

  
"Moriarty do you honestly think I'm going to take you in through the front door and put this onto your NHS records?" Mycroft snapped, glaring at Sebastian, "Moran are you going to get in the car or am I going to drive away with Jim and leave you here?" Sebastian hesitated and then came over, sitting down and turning to face the window as the renewed pain sent tears rolling down his cheeks again. Each time he cried made him feel more excessively pathetic and useless, trapping him into a downward spiral. Mycroft looked Jim over as the car whizzed off smoothly, "It'll all be private, it won't show up on anyone's records. Not that I don't trust Dr. Watson's medical expertise but unless he can make an X-ray machine out of kitchen appliances you need to be somewhere with a full range of proper equiptment. I've told him where we'll be, and he'll get here as soon as he can." He hesitated and then added, "Your lawyer is also coming, and you'll be a fully independent adult by the end of the day.”

  
"Fucking wonderful..." Jim glanced at Mycroft. "If I'm an adult they can't make me report this, right?" He didn't actually know the laws but he was pretty sure that they couldn't make him. Jim reached out and stroked the back of Sebastian's neck absentmindedly, letting his one squinty eye slip closed. He wanted Sebastian to have some time to himself to sort everything out. "I don't think any things really broken except a few of my ribs.”

  
"You are not going into hospital." Mycroft said in a clipped voice. "You are going somewhere with equipment so that my doctor can fix you up. Please do not assume any of this is on the record. You can of course, go to the police if you wish but I would seriously, serious consider the consequences of that. You know Magnussen." He shook his head as Jim tried to brush off his injuries. "I want you checked out. You look like death. What happened to Moran?”

  
“Fine.” Jim wasn’t used to having to trust people, especially people like Mycroft. He _didn’t_ trust him but he did need to rely on him at the moment. Jim felt his mind shutting down as unconsciousness started to grab for him. “M not going to the police, calm down. Seb’s fine, I don’t think he needs a doctor. Up to him.” Jim continued to stroke the back of Sebastian’s neck as his head tipped onto the other boy’s shoulder and he nodded off.

  
"Don' need a doctor..." Sebastian sniffled.

Mycroft spared him a glance, and then softened a little as he noticed how the boy was wincing, and how broken he looked, "Yes you do. You probably need at least ten sessions of good therapy but we can't give you that. For now, find something and damn well cling onto it. For Jim if not yourself." Sebastian gave another sniffle and awkwardly moved to make the head on his shoulder more comfortable, the broken skin along his arse screaming at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Non-con mentions, attempted non-con, non consensual spanking


	4. You Look Like You've Been Through the Wars

Jim slept for the short drive to the hospital, only having dozed for around twenty minutes. When they pulled up he was a little disoriented and looked ridiculous with no shoes and a giant tee shirt with the sergeant’s sweat pants on his short little legs. Jim imagined he looked about five years old except for the swelling and discoloration on his face. “We’re here? What now?” He was hesitant to go in and wanted to know exactly what to expect from Mycroft.

  
"We're here." Mycroft looked at them both, Sebastian with a red face and still tearful, Jim looking like a tiny broken thing in clothes too big and sighed. "We're going to get you upstairs into an empty room. My private Doctor will check you out. John Watson will join us as soon as he drives down here. You don't have to agree to any of it, but believe me, it'll be a lot more comfortable for you in the long run if you do. Now... are you going to come with me?”

  
“Okay…” Jim was still tired and hurting but he figured if he just focused on what he had to do then he could power through. Sebastian got out first and Jim twined their fingers together, surprising himself by the gesture. It seemed like Sebastian needed it though so Jim didn’t take his hand away. They managed their way upstairs, taking the elevator up to a quite hallway with an unused room. It had several examination beds and curtains hanging up with a lot of equipment Jim couldn’t name.

  
Sebastian held onto Jim's fingers tightly as they headed upstairs, shivering a little at the hospital rooms.

The Doctor who approached them was a woman, who gave them both a smile and a nod, "Hi, I'm Dr Hooper. I don't know your names and, um, apparently I shouldn't ask." Handing them two hospital gowns, she pulled a curtain across a small section of the room to give them privacy. "If you could get into those, then we just need to run some tests to check you're all right, especially you." She pointed at Jim looking sympathetic. "You look like you've been through the wars.”

  
“Its fine.” Jim sneered, not appreciating being singled out. Immediately he didn’t like her but he was too tired to make her feel uncomfortable or awkward. Instead he focused on shedding the clothes he was wearing behind the curtain, and didn't bother putting the gown on since she was going to be looking at him anyway. Instead he bunched it up to cover his lap and sat on the paper on the examination table, not feeling self conscious and wishing that Sebastian was a little bit closer and they weren’t separated by the curtains.

  
Sebastian looked at the gown then sneered and dropped it, "Nothing fucking wrong with me." He crossed his arms and glared at the doctor, who looked at Mycroft helplessly.

"Um... all right." Taking a stethoscope she checked Jim's breathing, gently pressed his ribs, looked over the bruises with a confused but expert eye and then gestured towards the X-ray machine. "If, um, when your ready?”

  
Jim scowled a little, wondering why Mycroft had to be there for this and he pulled his gown on properly since he didn’t think anyone would appreciate having his genitals near their fancy expensive machine. He gave Sebastian a look that told him he was not amused but he had said it was up to Seb if he wanted to see a doctor or not. It fucking hurt when she pressed at his ribs but Jim just grit hit teeth and sucked in a breath, working to keep the pain separate from him. “I’m ready when you are.”

  
She nodded, heading over to the X-ray machine and moving it around Jim. Mycroft turned away, then looked over pointedly at Sebastian, picked up his umbrella and delicately poked Sebastian's arse with it. "Get the gown on." Was all he said as Sebastian yelped and almost fell over. "I'll wait outside. Hooper I want a full report of the extent of the injuries." Sebastian growled as he left but obeyed, sulkily stripping without moving behind the curtain. He felt right now if he moved his eyes away from Jim he'd just collapse and never get up.

  
Jim was too tired to bolster Sebastian any further, he didn’t have the words, just an expressionless relief that nothing worse had happened to his friend today. Things could have gone very differently if Cyric hadn’t decided to take Jim down stairs, if Jim hadn’t bitten him… It didn’t bare thinking about. Jim sat very still while she took her x-rays, trying not to snap at her to hurry up. He wanted John here. If the man had left as soon as Jim called… he’d maybe be here in twenty minutes to a half hour. “You aren’t really going to tell him everything? That’s illegal.” Jim couldn’t help pointing it out to her to see how she’d react. He didn’t actually want Mycroft to know that he’d been buggered by a toilet brush.

"Everything happening in this room right now is illegal." She replied grimly and then, eyes brushing over his body, "By the looks of it, so is everything that's happened to you for the last few days." She glanced at the X-rays and then came over with a roll of bandages. "Nothing's broken, but you're badly bruised and I want to do a kidney function scan. I'll wrap your ribs, are you able to get me a pee sample?" She handed him a clean bottle and nodded towards the toilet.

  
“Brilliant…” Jim muttered sarcastically, although he was pleased that nothing was really broken. It was going to take long enough to recover as it was. Well, he’d wanted a way out of morning classes… He took the cup and gave her a little salute before shutting and locking the door behind him just in case Sebastian decided he needed to follow Jim in. He did need to piss and the color was not much better than it had been, still tinged with brown. Jim came back out to find Sebastian hissing and spitting at the doctor. Wonderful.

  
Molly Hooper wasn't sure quite how her life had led up to this moment, trying to persuade a teenage boy to lie down on an examination table when he was backed up against a wall, spitting like a feral cat. She turned as Jim came back with the sample and her eyebrows raised immediately as she saw it. "Oh. Not good. Ultrasound. There's a bottle of water in the top drawer, drink it and we'll scan you in half an hour, then empty it and scan you again. Is... is it possible for you to tell your... friend to lie down so I can take a look at him? He seems to be very badly bruised and grazed.”

  
Jim didn’t know how this was his life but he decided to reflect on it later. “Yeah Seb, I need to take care of everything so it would be really helpful if you’d just let her look at you to get it out of the way. Come on now.” Jim handed off the urine sample to Molly and grabbed his water bottle and came over to take Seb’s hand, leading him to the table. “Come on. I need to drink this and you need to get checked over. Everything’s fine, yeah? Ow, shit.” Jim hissed as he stubbed his toes walking into a stool. It was shit not being able to see well.

  
"And we need to check your eyes." Molly sighed, rubbing her temples.

Sebastian turned on Jim and hissed, "I'm not fucking _five_ okay — stop treating me like I'm about to fucking _break_ — it was just a whipping nothing more. You got _way_ worse you fuck..." His breath was hitching again.

Molly turned away, going across the room and preparing the ophthalmology equipment, "I can do a preliminary scan, but you may need to see a specialist if there's too much trauma to the eye, or a detached retina.”

  
“I’ll stop treating you like you are five when you start fucking acting better.” Jim gave him a gentle smack to the side of the head, “Get on the table and stop being a piss baby. I don’t like doctors or exams either. I know it’s fucking embarrassing and awkward and uncomfortable but you’re making it more difficult for everyone else. Its better to just get it done and over with. The nice thing is as soon as she’s done you get to put your clothes back on and you can go home later.” Jim unscrewed the cap from his water and drank deeply, savoring the water when he hadn’t been getting much to eat or drink over the last week. "Go ahead and check my eyes Dr. Hooper, give him a few minutes to get settled.”

  
Sebastian stared at him, dull and glowering, before finally mumbling, "Fuck you" and getting onto the table, ripping the hospital gown open at the back and closing his eyes. His backside and upper thighs were bruised and grazed, ridges and lines from the cane imbedded into his skin and a few trickles of blood ran down. Cyric had clearly gone to town after throwing Jim out of the room.

  
Dr Hooper flickered her eyes across to him and then went back to Jim, shining a light in his eyes, looking through the magnification glasses, checking him out in every way she knew. "Severe trauma to the eye socket and surrounding tissue, but thankfully nothing seems to be irreparably damaged." She took out a cool sterile pack from the freezer and handed it across, "Hold this over your eye wile I sort out your friend.” Sebastian stayed quiet and, thankfully tearless, as she cleaned him with antiseptic wipes and then placed another ice-pack over his arse and covered him with a sheet, "Stay there. Right." She looked at Jim and took a breath, her voice going a notch more professional, "Your backside and anal regions will have to be checked, however I understand if you'd like to wait for Dr. Watson to see to that. In the meantime, I can see if you need stitches in your mouth, and check you have no loose teeth." She was really trying hard not to think of what Jim must have been through to contract such injuries, but she hadn't missed how he'd gulped the water down. "Would you like something to eat as well? Or an energy drink to get some sugars in you?"

  
From the table, eyes still closed, Sebastian said sulkily, "I'd like something to eat.”

  
“Not till I get cleared of STIs, princess.” Jim quipped back before wincing and settling in a chair so that Molly could check his eyes. “That’s great…” He was worried about having permanent damage so it was good to hear that everything would hopefully heal all right. He covered his eyes with the cold pack and reached out to comb his fingers idly through Sebastian’s hair while the doctor checked him over. “I don’t want Dr. Watson to do the examination. If you could order some food and then check my face over being doing my arse I think that would be best.” Jim wasn’t looking forward to either of those exams but they had started with the easiest ones.

  
Sebastian made a sulky noise, but reached up to grasp Jim's fingers, twinning his own around them, feeling his heart-rate calm as the cooling gel-pack on his arse made it more comfortably numb and tingly, with the sting from the antiseptic. "Sorry I fucked up..." he murmured, his eyes opening, as Dr Hooper put a packet of crisps and a can of pop next to him.

  
She looked slightly more comfortable now both her patients were looking more patched up and were cooperating. "Right, I'll need you to open your mouth I'm afraid. You can stay sat there next to, uh, your friend. I'll be touching the inside of your cheek and your teeth." She started off the examination, giving a little intake of breath as she saw the damage the gag had made to his lower gum.

  
Jim shook his head, “You didn’t fuck up. Nothing you’ve done has been wrong. Now’s just not the best time for a breakdown, try and pull it together until later, yeah?” Jim squeezed his fingers back. He did as Dr. Hooper said, opening his mouth wide so that she could look inside. His jaw cracked unhappily and Jim winced at how uncomfortable it was to open his mouth like this after it had been held in this position for so long. He heard the gasp and scowled. “What, am I missing teeth? I tried to check, I thought I had all of them…”

  
"You've got your teeth, there's severe trauma to the lower gum and lip. You'll need stitches I'm afraid, and a proper clean of the area to stop any lasting damage. I can't do that, but I'll get you a dental appointment asap." She managed a weak smile, "Other than that some scarring to the inside of the mouth, nothing can be done about that, and bruising, particularly around your jaw. That'll clear but don't try eating anything too tough for a while." She stood back and looked him over. "Good, just the final area to do. Would you like to go behind the curtain?”

  
Jim frowned, knowing he couldn’t really have a dental appointment. Mycroft would work it out. “You can’t do the stitches either?” He asked with a frown. Jim didn’t _like_ having a big flap of skin in his mouth. “I’ll be careful, and yes, just give me a moment.” Jim gave Sebastian’s hand a final pat and settled down across the table on his back with his legs bent at the knee, starting up at the ceiling. When Hooper came in and closed the curtain Jim muttered, “Keep it down, yeah? He’s got enough on his mind without knowing the particulars.”

  
"I'd rather not start stitching your mouth up without a dentist looking over it — don't worry it'll be all private, like me, and completely under the radar. No medical notes except what goes to Mister Holmes. Also I don't have any equipment for anesthetizing your mouth." She gave a small apologetic smile and then nodded once they got behind the curtain. "Of course, I'm sure he's... oh... he's just propped himself up to start eating crisps." She took a small torch and started looking over the area, remaining quiet and professional other than a small intake of breath. "Right. Um. A lot of damage. You'll need stitches, and a gentle clean of the inside. Do you mind me asking the maximum... length... of anything that entered you? I'll give your bladder a scan when we check your kidneys as well, to see if there's any internal trauma." She hesitated, "I'll also give you some mild stool softeners, right now you don't need anything to add to the trauma.”

  
“Good.” Jim said shortly, not in the mood to talk. He held his knees back, away from the rest of his body and wincing at the stretch. “I don’t really know, they didn’t exactly fuck me with a measuring stick.” Jim snapped at her before taking a breath and honestly trying to think about the question. “Maybe twenty-two to thirty centimeters? I don’t know for sure how much was — inserted. Are you going to do these stitches yourself or do you need a dentist to do that too?” He sneered. Jim knew he was being shitty to her but he was in pain and exposed and couldn’t quite hold back his temper. At least Mycroft wasn’t in here watching. “There was blood in my stool yesterday — for a few days now.”

  
"No, I'll do these ones." She took out a small needle and then looked up at him, "I'll anesthetize you, but would you like a bit of gas and air as well? It'll make everything a lot more bearable. Just before you do, what colour was the blood, red or black? Did it occur between times as well, or just when you needed the toilet." She got out the equipment she needed as she talked, trying to assess what exactly the damage was.

  
Jim was not sure how she was supposed to put stitches up his arse or who would be able to take them out later but he stayed as still and quiet as possible. “Honestly I’d probably fall asleep.” He was still exhausted and anything that addled his senses was likely to disorient him or make him sleep. “Uh - red? And — yeah, yeah it was other times too. Like sex or after sex, I’d bleed a little.”

  
Molly let out a relieved sigh at his answer, "Good, that's, well that's not perfect, but it means that the damage is around your anus rather than internal. Stitches will be around the outside and entrance, you've been... stretched pretty badly. There's one part on the inside that will need some work, but it's reachable." She gave a small smile and then gently pressed the needle into his skin. "All right, we'll get you numbed up then I'll sort you out. The stitches will dissolve eventually, I doubt Mycroft wants you making a habit of coming back here.”

  
“ _I_ don’t want to make a habit of coming here.” Jim scowled, reminding himself that John was on his way and he would probably get here sometime after this was done. He didn’t want John doing the stitches because he didn’t want him to see the full damage, after today Jim wouldn’t even be his ward anymore, it was possible that he could hide most of it from him. Somewhere deep down Jim knew that he shouldn’t be protecting John, that the man was an adult and could be trusted to act responsibly. But he’d already driven John to drinking, he felt like if he let John know how bad his situation was the man would feel guilty and it would make his problem worse and it would be Jim’s fault. He hissed and let out a low whine as the needle slipped in, numbing the area too slowly. “Fuck…” Jim breathed when it no longer hurt so much. “All right, do it. Go on.”

  
"Calm down, I want to make sure you're fully anesthetized." Molly took another needle, and, after flicking the area a few times and checking with Jim it was numb, pressed it deeper inside him, making sure he wouldn't be able to feel any of the areas she was working on. "There's some real damage in here." She kept her voice low. “If you tell me details, I'll have to tell them to Mycroft, so I won't ask. I think, ‘insertion of numerous implements’ probably covers it. Take the stool softeners for a week at least, and please let me know if the bleeding continues. If you _ever_ have black blood in there check it out as soon as you can.”

  
Jim couldn’t feel any pain but he could still feel pressure, the skin pulling taunt as she tightened a stitch or as the needle pressed into his skin. He bit his hand, trying to keep back a whimper or some other humiliating noise. It didn’t hurt but it was uncomfortable and violating and Jim grit his teeth and closed his eyes tight and he couldn’t help but tense up his body. “Yeah that’s — that’s fine, just tell him that. I’ll take whatever medications you give me. How soon can I be tested for STIs are there any medications I can have that will block them or prevent them or whatever?” Jim’s mother had given him a good sexual education but he couldn’t remember what the medications were called or how they worked exactly.

  
"I'll take a blood sample once I've stitched you up and we'll send it straight to the lab." Molly answered, starting with the stitches, trying to make them as small and discrete as possible. "You should have the results back by the end of the week, give me a number and I'll text them straight to you, I wouldn't trust Mister Holmes to let you know. And this goes without saying but I really wouldn't have any kind of sex or penetrative activity for at least a week. I... I can give you a certificate for that if you like?" She looked a little uncertainly, "I really don't mean to insult, but I do know some of the people he brings to me have... certain professions. If you need any kind of Doctor's stamp I am qualified to give one.”

  
“I’m a student.” Jim muttered, wondering how she couldn’t see that when he looked about thirteen. “I have uh — physical education when spring break is over, if you could write me a note to get out of that for a while it would be super.” He muttered, a little sarcastically. “I’ll leave my number with you… are you going to tell him my results as well then?” He huffed and stayed still so that she could do a good job and he wouldn’t mess up her stitches. “I don’t have any plans for sex, I didn’t really plan to have sex this week either. It’s not really up to me but I’ll keep that in mind — buggery for professional purposes only.” Jim let out a little sob and immediately pulled himself back together, not willing to give up his control when he still needed it. “Sorry, yeah. All right. Thanks.”

  
Molly gave him a look of sympathy, biting her lip. She could see how young Jim looked, and highly doubted that PE was his motivation. In a burst of passion she suddenly exclaimed, "Sometimes I really hate Mycroft Holmes, god the people he uses, and he _does_ use them." She scowled fiercely, finishing off the stitches and then helping Jim to stand up. "I, yes, I will need to tell him your results, and I would _really_ like to have a word with him about what he expects you to do but... I'll keep quite if you'd prefer." She pulled back through the curtain and glared at Sebastian, who had dropped his empty crisp packet and drink can onto the floor, "And you can pick _those_ up for a start! There's nothing wrong with _you!"_ Muttering direly under her breath she headed over to her notes, writing up Jim before she forgot, and before she ended up losing her temper.

  
Jim was a little shocked by her outburst. “Er — this isn’t his fault.” He wasn’t sure why he was sticking up for Mycroft at all but it occurred to him if she felt upset enough then she could go to the police. “I’m sixteen. Old enough to consent. I’m going to be fine, you said so yourself.” Jim watched her scribble his note out furiously and turned his focus on Sebastian, taking his hand for a moment and huffing a breath. “Hey… so you know how I have to do things sometimes that I don’t want to do because of — well, you know.” Jim didn’t want to say Magnussen’s name in front of the doctor lady. “Sometimes you’ll have to too. Like hiding our relationship. I need you to do something for me so that I don’t get in anymore trouble, can you do that?”

  
"You are _not_ old enough to consent for the professions I'm pretty sure Mycroft is using you for." Molly muttered angrily under her breath, but she didn't say anything else, concentrating down on her notes. "You'll be fine _if_ you allow yourself to recover. And if Mycroft allows you to recover."

Sebastian looked up at him, feeling a sinking in his stomach as he wondered just what Jim was about to ask, burying his head into his arms he shook it stubbornly. "No. No. I'm not just letting you walk back there. Why the fuck should you? Come to my place for the rest of the holiday. Stay there when I go back to school. I'm not gonna watch you going through this crap any more."

  
“I’m not going back,” Jim reassured quietly, speaking low so that the woman wouldn’t overhear and he ran his hand over Sebastian’s hair, trying to encourage him to look at him. “I’m going to stay away with Mycroft or John the rest of spring break. I expect then Mycroft will have some plan or conditions for his protections that involve me going back to school. What I need you to do is go back home. If Mags finds out I’ve been lying to him this whole time then he’s seriously going to hurt me. You’re protecting me by keeping this relationship a secret. As far as anyone is concerned you showed up to meet with the Sergeant. That _is_ what happened. I just happened to be there. We both escaped and went our separate ways. Not much to read into that. We’re both safe. But if I run off with you back to your house Mags is going to hurt me — a lot worse than this. If we fuck this up now then literally everything I just did for the last week will be worth nothing.”

  
"You'll stay with John of Mycroft?" Sebastian asked suspiciously, turning his head a little to peek up at Jim, and then biting his lower lip, giving a nod. "Yeah... I can do that. 'S fine. Just as long as you're staying safe. I think Serge will be pretty happy with that line as well, he's not gonna want to admit he let us both out... besides, that's what I did." Tears formed up in his eyes again. "I didn't come to rescue you. I came to be a complete fucking idiot..." He stopped speaking and then nodded as Molly came over and gave them a small smile.

"All right, um, nothing else for me to do. Would you like to wait here until Watson arrives? Or ..." She paused as Sebastian levered himself off the table, and gave Jim a small kiss on the side of his forehead, the least injured part he could see.

"Nah, I don't need a telling off from Watson. I've done something stupid, got burnt, managed to escape, and heading back home. That's all.”

  
“Yeah. Serge can get the flack for letting me go. No way am I going to miss an opportunity to get that fuck in trouble.” Jim grinned widely, pleased at the prospect of throwing that back in Magnussen’s face. Sebastian started tearing up again and Jim didn’t like that — he had a nice thing going with the numbness and the compartmentalization — Sebastian’s tears were rocking the boat. “Hey, none of that. What you did was stupid but that’s because you never consider your own safety. I _told_ you not to find me, you were trying to do the right thing by staying away. It just got complicated.” Jim wasn’t exactly keen on being naked and being in physical proximity to another man without clothes on but Jim gave him a quick hug and didn’t go for a kiss just in case Mycroft was watching. He handed Sebastian his clothes and gave him a grin before he started to get dressed himself, very slowly so he wouldn’t aggravate his injuries. He spoke to Molly, going back to that cool professional tone. “My understanding is that you are going to make me a dentist appointment for the stitches and do a CT scan of my kidneys and bladder, was that right? Just none of that is getting done at this moment? I can take a break and eat something?”

  
Sebastian managed a small watery grin, tugging on his clothes and blowing Jim a kiss as he left. Molly watched him and then pulled her lips tight, "I... won't tell Mycroft about that." She said eventually, before returning to Professional standards, "Yes, you'll have a dental appointment booked, and we'll just do an ultrasound, no need for CT. In about half an hour to give your kidney's time to fill. In the meantime, yes, you can take a break and have some food. Here." She pulled some change out of a drawer and put it on the table Seb had just vacated. "That's from expenses, so help yourself. There's a vending machine down the hall that does sandwiches.”

  
“Good. You’d better not.” Jim warned seriously. He thought Molly was being honest and she’d been pretty decent to him so far, he was only try to show how serious he was that Sebastian stay out of this. He’d told Mycroft that his relationship with Sebastian was fabricated for Magnussen, he didn’t need the man pulling more strings than Jim wanted him to. He took the money with a mumbled “thank you” and pushed out the door into the hallway, shuffling along to the vending machine and ignoring Mycroft who seemed to be following him. “Is this the part where you tell me I sold my soul for some crisps and stitches? Pretty sure it can’t be legally binding if I didn’t know about it before hand.” Jim just liked being obtuse and pissing Mycroft off. He got a BLT from the vending machine and a strong cup of coffee to keep him awake through the next few hours. All he wanted to do was sleep but he had to have his ultrasound in half an hour and Mycroft looked like he wanted to badger him.

  
Mycroft had been waiting outside the room and stood up as Jim exited, stalking behind him and pretty much following him, watching him walk and frowning a Jim snapped at him. "You haven't sold your soul, Jim Moriarty, although I expect you've buried it. So far I've given you information Magnussen asked you to collect, found you a lawyer to sign off your independence and given you vital medical attention. And yet you still seem happier to work for Magnussen who constantly mistreats you. Please don't tell me you really believe he'll kill your father?”

  
“Maybe even after all you’ve done for me I find that he’s still scarier than you are pleasant.” He added quite a lot of cream and sugar to his coffee it give him an extra boost. “Maybe everything you are able to do for me pales with what he will do _to_ me if he finds out I’ve been working for you. If you decide I haven’t been a productive enough little worker bee and you _tell_ him — let him do the work for you.” He sighed and started back for the hospital room, hoping Mycroft would just decide to leave. “I know he’s not going to kill my father. If I decide to start working for you, what then?”

  
"Would it help if I was scary?" Mycroft opened a small packet of biscuits and played with them, breaking them in half one by one. "I could try licking your face but I feel it would be rather distasteful for both of us and unlikely to achieve anything." He hesitated and then added, "Don't forget, Magnussen did try to recruit me once. I... know what he's like. And you are correct that I would never likely dream of punishing you in all the ways he could." He stood up, and pushed the biscuits away towards Jim, "I can understand that. You are afraid of him. It makes sense that you should stick your allegiances.”

  
Jim wasn’t sure if Mycroft breaking the little biscuits was supposed to be threatening or not. “If I start working for you, what would happen to me then?” Jim repeated, still looking for an answer. He took the biscuits though and popped one in his mouth.

  
"You know I have a history with Magnussen." Mycroft reached into his top pocket and pulled out a cigarette, slim fingers twisting it around, "We've most kept away from each other since then. Something of an impasse. But I have an idea of what he's planning next and you provide one thing I have never before had — a link close to Magnussen, to watch him and to work for him." He turned to Jim and looked at him, "Right now, here and now, we have time. A small amount of time. Magnussen does not know where you are, and he believes you are safely being punished. If you are to go back to him, you need to go back cowed and pretending to have learnt your lesson. We can find out what lies the Sergeant has told him, we can work out what you will have done for the rest of the holiday, and we can support you doing that. You will not be... _ravaged_ again. Your body will not stand it and he will be more impressed if you avoid it. I have already given you your freedom, you can leave whenever you desire, to Argentina if you'd like. You are not bound to me as you were to Magnussen.”

  
“You mean after though. If I left for Argentina now he would find me. I don’t think myself so important but it’s insulting. A man like Magnussen can’t let it get out that he was duped by a child. You’re going to take him down, right?” Jim glanced at the cigarette longingly but didn’t bother asking for it. He wasn’t up for the trip outside. Perhaps he could prop a window open? Focus. Jim took another sip of coffee. “He wants Sebastian. That’s what all this has been about after Christmas. That’s why I got sent to the Sergeant. Tell me how to get around that and I’ll think about agreeing to what you want. Although… I don’t know what I’m expecting, really. We all know what choice you made.” Jim said, referring to Sherlock.

  
"Choice?" Mycroft's voice was suddenly clipped and harsh, "I made a choice that put the safety and security of the entire country before the bad decisions of my drug-addled brother. Please don't pretend that your little puppy-love for Sebastian and your admittedly justified hatred for your father is anything, _anything_ next to the choices I was faced with." Taking a lighter out of his pocket, he flipped it open, lighting the cigarette and giving a slightly guilty glance at the hospital room, hoping Molly wouldn't smell it. "He wants Sebastian to secure Moran. I have a vested interest in keeping Moran away from Magnussen's clutches. If I assure you that dear Sebastian will be left with as many of his limbs intact as I can manage will that satisfy you? I cannot, of course, prevent him from going off and doing something stupid on his own account, as he has a rather mystifying preference for doing.”

  
Jim tilted his head to the side, squinting his eyes at Mycroft through his better eye, and grinned. “Did he do this to you too then?” Jim gestured to his body and the damage under his clothes. “How’s that for a choice, hmmm?” He let out a breath and sagged against the wall a little, way too fucking tired to play with Mycroft like he wanted to. “I can keep Sebastian in line, more or less. What’s the story then? Am I going to get close to Moran again or what?” Jim watched him smoke jealously, “Can I have one? I think I earned it.”

  
Mycroft shot him a glance and then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a second cigarette, lighting it before handing it over and he mumbled, "Please don't tell Dr Hooper. The 'story' for Magnussen is that you are very sorry — both for scuppering your chances with Sebastian, and for getting lippy with him. You're more than happy to do as he requests of you, had a terrible time with the Sergeant, have learnt your lesson, etc. etc. Then wait to see what he asks you to do. He might put you on assignment elsewhere, he might ask you to try again with Sebastian, he might wish you to leave his employment. We shall see.”

  
Jim noticed that Mycroft didn’t answer his question. “Now that doesn’t seem fair. You’re getting the skinny on me. She’s told you the number of stitches in my arse, I think you can answer my question.” He took the cigarette though, taking a deep drag before sighing happily. Jim really wanted a drink to go with it but didn’t suppose Mycroft had that hidden on his person too. Maybe John would bring some — if he decided to show that is. “If he does want me to leave does that mean I need to get back into his good graces for your plan to work?” Jim wasn’t sure he could do that.

  
Mycroft gave him a little glare, "Suffice to say I ended up with no stitches in my arse, if that satisfies you. I do, after all, have the weight of a family and a respectable name behind me..." He hesitated, thinking of Sherlock and then glancing at Jim, wondering if a little bit of dirt would be worth the loyalty in return. "I was never... used... quite so comprehensively. That doesn't mean I wasn't used at all. Ask your father about it some time. Whatever Magnussen's answer is, you will let me know. If you're out of his good graces this time I doubt you'll ever get back into them.”

  
Jim had a disturbing moment when he didn’t know if Mycroft was referencing John or James. “Yeah, all right. I can do that. Don’t tell John, yeah? He’s got enough on his plate right now. I’m debating between telling him I fell down the stairs or I got hit by a car.” Jim tried to joke but it fell flat. He wasn’t comfortable mentioning John’s drinking to Mycroft, even though it wasn’t any of his business the man probably already knew anyway.

  
"I'm not telling him anything." Mycroft looked at Jim, eyes raised, "Even if he did want to speak to me, you're the one who requested him, you're the one who needs to work with him and around him." He paused as there were a clattering sound of someone trying to climb the stairs as fast as possible and sighed, "Poor Dr. Watson. The lift would be quicker, but I think waiting in it would kill him. I think that's my cue to exit."

  
Pinching out the end of the cigarette he deposited it neatly into a waste-bin before heading the other way down the corridor, rounding the corner just as John made his way to the top of the stairs, looking relieved as he saw Jim there, "Are you... I came as fast as I could and - Jim are you _smoking!?”_

  
“Coward,” Jim teased as Mycroft turned and left. Now that he thought about it he’d never seen Mycroft and John in a room together. He was probably worried that John would punch him through another door. The thought made Jim grin but then John was yelling at him and Jim was stupid for forgetting what was in his hand. “I’ve been framed,” he said dryly and took a deep drag, figuring John was probably going to take it in a second and he should enjoy it while it lasted. “Was your trip out okay? Sorry this is kind of short notice but do you think you could find us somewhere to stay for the week? I’m supposed to be lying low.” He quirked a smile, laughing at himself and how Bond-esque the situation sounded.

  
John glared at both him and the cigarette, crossing his arms over his chest, "I know you're not legally my problem any more but I really would appreciate you letting me have a strong word with you about that habit..." Moments later his arms were on Jim's shoulders, checking him out for injuries, looking worried and then giving a small smile as Molly appeared, "Dr. Hooper. I'm very pleased to see you. Is... is he all right?"

Molly gave a smile, shaking her head, "As all right as can be expected, I've just got a final ultrasound to do, um..." She hesitated, realizing she still didn't know Jim's name, "Come on. If you're staying with Dr Watson I can easily get in contact with you, we've known each other since..." She hesitated and glanced at John before finishing lamely, "For a while.”

  
“Car accident.” Jim excused, giving a glance for Dr. Hooper, warning her not to correct him. “Sorry to drag you all the way down here. Bastards wouldn’t take me to the hospital — too scared of going to prison, so I had Mycroft come pick me up.” Jim didn’t look at the lie as a kindness. John had been losing his usefulness lately, he’d been emotionally compromised and was being less reliable as a result. Jim needed to keep him as steady as he could. He put his cigarette out discreetly and binned it. Jim was mentally locked away where he couldn’t get hurt but he still took note of John’s words _not my problem anymore._ Not his responsibility, not his ward, his problem. Lovely. It was easier like this though. He was grateful. Jim followed Molly a little blankly, morosely realizing that he hadn’t gotten a chance to eat his sandwich so he sipped his coffee as they walked. John followed and Jim glanced back at him. “You know what, never mind. I can find somewhere to recuperate. I just thought it might be best since Mags isn’t supposed to know about the legal thing today, but it just occurred to me that he isn’t going to know at all. I’m supposed to be where I came from.” Jim tried to speak vaguely so that Molly wouldn’t be able to piece together what he was talking about.

  
"Car accident." John repeated flatly. "All right, don't worry. From what I've heard from Magnussen he's screamingly furious that you aren't where you should be. He knows I've come down to see you. I see nothing wrong with pretending that you've escaped from your... car accident, phoned me, and I've given you medical treatment and looked after you. I'll... well I don't have a house here, I'll get us a room somewhere to stay. Molly can I - thank you." He smiled gratefully as she handed him her phone. "You get your scan done, apparently kidneys are easily damaged through car-accidents." He finished dryly, as Molly set up the ultrasound and motioned for him to lift his shirt.

  
Jim froze up, breath coming a little quicker when John said Magnussen was angry. “He — knows? He wasn’t supposed to know.” Fuck. Jim covered his slip of anxiety by taking another drink of his coffee. This wasn’t part of their plan. “Uh — thanks. Did he say anything about wanting me to go back immediately? If not, I haven’t slept in like… three days, it would be great if I could crash somewhere for a couple days before going back to school.” Jim glanced at John, frustrated that he didn’t believe him about the accident. “My kidneys were bruised from the seatbelt.” Jim justified.

  
"I'm sure they were." John said, suddenly tired of everything. "Jim - look - I didn't drive all this way so that you could lie to me, just finish up your tests and I'll find us a place to stay. Magnussen isn't angry at you. He didn't say anything about what I was to do with you, so as far as I'm concerned you're staying in a bed and breakfast in London for the rest of the week. And you are _not_ smoking." With that he left the room, looking unhappily at Molly's phone as it started to ring and picking it up with a sigh, "Mycroft, what a surprised. Where are you then, hiding behind a potted plant somewhere?”

  
Jim sagged a little, frustrated that he couldn’t do one fucking thing right. He was relieved that Magnussen wasn’t calling for him or making him come back early. The thought of going back at all was a little terrifying but he had a plan now, a set of directives he could follow. He’d just have to hope that he lied better to Mags than he did to John. Jim followed Molly and got back on the hospital bed, rucking his shirt up high on his chest and tugging the oversized sweatpants down low on his hips so that she could work. Maybe he should have considered the fact that he was wearing two different grown men’s clothing before he tried to tell John about a car accident. He was really off his game today. “How is this done then? Like pregnant ladies in the movies?”

  
"Yes, except it'll be really surprising if you have a baby in your kidneys." Molly said dryly, rubbing the cold blue gel over his skin and then running the ultrasound over it, peering at the monitor, "See the dark blob? That's your kidney. Below is your bladder. Aaaaand... the other one. Both look fine to me. Now, go take a pee and we'll check it's all drained correctly." She glanced at the door as John Watson hissed angrily into a phone, "Oh dear. Poor Watson. He was a mess last time I saw him, just after the bought Sherlock in." She bit her lip worriedly.

  
Jim actually smirked at that. “Thank fuck I’m not a woman. Being potentially pregnant from all of this would be super shitty.” It didn’t bare thinking about. He didn’t really know how they dealt with it. Jim was relieved that none of his organs were too badly damaged, at least nothing long term. “He’s too soft.” Jim criticized quietly. He did have to pee again after the water and the coffee. When he was through he stepped back outside. “It could be my imagination but I think it was less dark this time.” Jim washed his hands and took up his sandwich and munched on it hungrily. “You’ll take a blood sample for STIs and then I can go with John, right?”

  
"Yes, arm out." She took the blood, separating it out into four little tubes which were labelled and sealed and then she gave him a smile. "All right, go and get looked after by Dr. Watson. I can trust him to keep you away from injury at least. I'll let you know about your results.”

  
Jim gave her an impish grin, figuring that she’d already worked out with John what needed done as far as care at home and what medications and antibiotics he needed to be on. “Thank you.” He gave her a nod and limped back to John, taking the man’s arm lightly so that he could lean on him as they walked out to the car. Jim would text Sebastian later and let him know where he was. “Tests are good. No major organ damage so I should be okay.”

  
"You should be fine, and I'll be keeping you away from cars." John gave Molly a smile and handed her the phone back, "I've been in touch with Mycroft, we've been ordered to stay put, this is a perfect turn of events for Magnussen to believe. You escape, you call me, I fix you up, and we wait out the holiday. We're on Mycroft's budget so order the most expensive pizza's you want. I'm pleased you're all right I was... worried. When you called.”

  
They got in the elevator and Jim held only John’s elbow for balance with one hand and ate his sandwich with the other. “Shit, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t really think about how that call would sound. They were hurting him and -“ Jim waved his sandwich hand around to convey his scattered thoughts. “I lost my shit for a second. Everything turned out fine though.” Jim moaned outright at the thought of pizza, he hadn’t had any since he left Ireland. “Oh fuck yes… I need sleep first. Then water and food and possibly three years in therapy. …That last one was a joke.” They made it out to the car and Jim winced as he laid down across the back seats. There was a blanket and he pulled it up over his shoulders. “No, I lied — shower than sleep. Do you have some clothes I could borrow? I don’t want to wear these any longer than I have to and we’re of a similar size.” Sort of. Closer than the sergeant and Cyric anyway.

  
"Shower then sleep, and I'll get you some clothes." John gave a mischievous smile, "Or I could just call Serephine Moran and tell her you're requesting clothes? I'm sure she'd descend on Oxford Street in about three minutes." His phone beeped to tell him the location of their apartment and John groaned banging his head on the steering wheel, "Excellent, we have a private self-catering apartment. Makes sense I suppose, but I was looking forward to a good breakfast. I'll get some food as well then.”

  
Jim groaned, “No please… she’d just ask Seb about it and his head is fucked up as it is. I don’t know, maybe his mum would make him feel better, what do I know?” He sighed and his eyes were already closed. “Get everything after I’m settled in? I plan on sleeping for about twelve hours, plenty of time to get groceries and whatever else you need.” He had finished his sandwich and his stomach was pleasantly full.

  
"Of course." John said gently, and then hesitated before adding, "Please remember that Sebastian has gone back to a large house, plenty of money, many servants and caring if distant parents. I know you worry about him but I think for the next few days I would focus on worrying about yourself." The apartment was larger than he'd expected, with private bedrooms for both of them, and a hamper of food waiting in the kitchen which John scowled at, "Huh, trying to get into my good books. Well, I'll unpack my things, you wash and rest, you've been through enough.”

  
“He’s so helpless though…” Jim teased before dozing off. He slept until they got back to the flat, then he stripped on his way to the shower, moving with a single minded focus that had him blocking out whatever it was John said about food. Jim hadn’t had a shower in too long, the little sponge bath Sebastian had given him hadn’t gotten him clean enough. He stood with the shower scalding hot, watching the water run with some dirt and blood until eventually it was clean. Jim shook under the spray, eventually giving up and sitting down on the floor when it hurt to stand for so long. He held his face in his hands and tried to hold back his breakdown that had been pushing and prodding at him for days. This was his first real moment of privacy and it was difficult to hold his shit together after he’d locked it all away. Just a little while longer. Jim couldn’t break down now, he would totally fall apart. He just needed to get his head in order before he opened that particular bag of cats. After about forty-five minutes Jim turned the water off, barely pausing to pat himself dry before falling into bed naked, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets up to keep him warm. Sleep was a fucking incredible thing.

  
Sebastian had limped out of the hospital and ordered a car to take him back, not feeling up to the train when his backside was still a stinging mass of welts. He sulked the whole way back, still not ready to face up to his feelings about Jim, about himself, the loss of the Sergeant as a person he admired (pretty much the only person he admired) and the fear for Jim's safety and welfare. And of course the very selfish teenage fear that Jim would have some horrible disease and they could never have sex again. He got back to the house, paid an obscenely large amount to the driver, added an even bigger tip, and then skulked up to his room, lying on the bed face down. Tugging his sweats down he rubbed at his sore bottom and, for the last time in his life, let himself cry — long and shamefully and properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Medical exam


	5. This is a Sensible Way to Punish Myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some confusion about what age Sebastian is because I'm thinking we didn't write it down but he is seventeen and Jim is now sixteen.

Jim: Hey. It's me. I nicked John's phone so that I could text you. You get home okay? JM

Seb: Jim? Yeah, I'm back home now. Did you get your test results? -SM

Jim: No lasting damage to my kidneys or bladder, so that's good news. JM

Seb: Cool. Mags hasn't sent you back there has he? -SM

Jim: No. John and I are staying in the city. He's making sure I get all my meds and that I get enough rest and food and all that. JM

Jim: There's nothing to do here, it's so boring. JM

Seb: Good. Ha. Thought you might appreciate the quiet. M busy training. -SM

Jim: I appreciate having my own shower and bedroom but the quiet is too much. John is trying to hide stuff from me. He's pretending to be happy. JM

Jim: Training for what? JM

Seb: John is a waste of space. Not training for anything, just training. Ready for whatever you need. -SM

Jim: He's trying, same as you. Just in a different way. Not a waste of space because he orders me pizza. JM

Jim: Shouldn't you be resting? JM

Seb: Why would I be resting? I can rest when I get dragged along to these bastard embassy dinners. -SM

Jim: I'm sure you just love that. JM

Jim: You got hurt dumbass. You should be letting your body heal. JM

Seb: I got my arse whipped like a misbehaving schoolboy. I hardly need intensive convalescence. I'll sit on an ice block for you if you want. -SM

Jim: I want. JM

Jim: There was blood, that counts as an injury. JM

Seb: Fiiiine. I would say you're like my mum but she'd just slap me on the arse and laugh. Then buy me shit. Then run off to America in a fancy sports car with a fancy sports man. -SM

Jim: One of my eyes is mostly open now! JM

Seb: Uh. The last dinner before I go back. Mags will be there. -SM

Seb: Just so you know. -SM

Jim: And to think you could have followed in her foot steps. JM

Seb: It's not an embassy one but it's a government launch thingy. Fuck knows what they're launching. -SM

Jim: Okay. Well, you had attitude with him before, right? Just don't let him get to you. It's safer to act like you didn't see me over break or knew where I was going. JM

Seb: Yeah, I'll do that. -SM

Jim: Don't let him talk you into signing over your soul or anything. I've got this covered with Mycroft. JM

Seb: He won't talk to me. I'm just there to look decorative and eat olives. He's there for the big boys. -SM

Jim: Fine then, let me rephrase. Don't start fights and don't punch him in the face. JM

Seb: Yeah, yeah, I've had the talk from my dad. I didn't tell him what happened. Didn't tell anyone. The general rumour is that I went to London to meet a girl and she stood me up. -SM

Jim: Wonderful. I suppose it's less damaging than the truth anyway. JM

Jim: Has the sergeant tried to contact you? JM

Seb: No. -SM

Seb: Nobody has. -SM

Jim: I have. JM

Jim: I couldn't stand anymore reruns. JM

Seb: Want me to come up there and cause some shit? -SM

Seb: Or shall we be good little boys for Mycroft -SM

Jim: Later. I'm too tired right now. I've been getting sick. JM

Seb: Sick? What kind of sick? Have you told Watson you're sick? -SM

Jim: Yeah I've got a low fever and I've been vomiting a little. He's not so useless that he's missed it. JM

Seb: Shit, is that bad? Why are you doing that. Did you get your blood tests? -SM

Jim: That was actually something I wanted to talk to you about. I guess my mum missed some of my shots when I was a baby. That lady doctor texted me back and told me I got Hep B. There's a less that 5% chance that I could go chronic and develop liver damage or cancer. I can beat a 5% odds. JM

Seb: Shit... -SM

Seb: Can you get the shot now? Can you do anything? Should we get you some ... i dunno ... medicines or something. -SM

Seb: SHIT -SM

Jim: I'm not totally sure about all that? She just texted me like an hour ago. I've been doing research. JM

Jim: Verify but I'm quite sure your mum was good enough to get you all your shots. If you've been immunized then I can't pass it to you, even if a condom breaks. JM  
  
Seb: Stop fucking pissing around. It doesn't matter about me getting it, it matters about you having it. I'm pretty sure you never want to fuck me ever again anyway. -SM  
  
Jim: I never said that, stop putting words in my mouth. JM

Seb: 'S fine. I know you didn't say it. But why would you want to? -SM

Jim: Maybe I don't want Mags to take away anything else from me. JM

Seb: I'm highly unlikely to have sex with Mags. Or any of his fucking goons. -SM

Jim: We might have to. If Mags deicides he wants me to be close to you again. He might check. JM

Jim: No you idiot, I'm not letting him take away my sex life. Not you specifically. JM

Jim: And I don't know, a few days ago you weren't saying that. Serge? JM

Seb: If we have to, we have to. -SM

Seb: Nice to know you're not letting me forget that. -SM

Jim: Why do you have to be such a shit about this? JM

Seb: Didn't think I was. -SM

Seb: You got fucked completely by the bloke I used to have the hots for. Just didn't think you'd want to be reminded of that. -SM

Jim: He never fucked me. JM

Jim: "If we have to, we have to" is not a very flattering attitude to have about sex with me. JM

Seb: I - shit I didn't mean it like that. -SM

Jim: How did you mean it then? JM

Seb: I just don't want to be in that position again. -SM

Seb: I meant I'll do what you need me to. -SM

Jim: Thank you. JM

Jim: You're -- well, I wouldn't want this with anyone else. JM

Seb: I guess I still have to pretend not to want you at school. -SM

Jim: It's a shit situation but... this is fucked up. I'm glad it's you. And not some faceless cadet or an instructor. JM

Seb: I suppose that's almost a compliment. -SM

Jim: Only if he has me move on to something else. If he still wants a tie to your father then we won't have to pretend. JM

Seb: Yeah well like I said. What you need me to do. -SM

Jim: Dunno. You say all the time that you love me. I tried? JM

Seb: What? Did you mean, did that mean - _what?_ -SM

Jim: ALL I SAID was that I'm glad that if I'm going to have sex with anyone I'm glad it's you. JM

Seb: Ha! I'm saving that one -SM

Jim: Well my list is not nearly as short as it used to be but you're still the person I've most enjoyed sex with. JM

Seb: Thanks Jim I thought after what happened, well, yeah. I fucked up a lot, and it was all pretty shit but yeah. -SM

Seb: Great! Well I shall continue to attempt to rank higher than your rapists on the Jim Moriarty scale of sex enjoyment. -SM

Jim: Shut the fuck up, that's not what happened. JM

Jim: Just don't talk about it like that, okay. JM

Seb: Heh heh. You texted it. I've saved it. Never. -SM

Jim: I can't make you any promises in terms of -- you know anything really. Intimacy is a good word - the sex and other shit. It's all a little fucked up in my head and I'm trying to set it right. JM

Jim: Wanker. JM

Jim: Just don't call it that, what happened. I'm going to get enough victimizing from Mags and Mycroft and John. And my dad. Fuck... I'll bet he's proud. JM

Seb: Don't need any promises. Just don't make me do anything that... hurts you too much. Your dad is a fucker. Let me know when you want me to deal with him. -SM

Jim: I don't know if I told you? I got emancipated. JM

Jim: I won't, promise. We can fake stuff if we need to. Lets cross that bridge when it comes to it. JM

Seb: You got what? Isn't that what they do to dogs at the vet? I can still smack him one can't I? I mean he's a vicious little bugger but in terms of brute strength I could really belt him one. -SM

Jim: I'm legally an adult. I don't have any parents. John's not my foster father anymore. You aren't allowed to tell anyone though, it's just in case I need to fuck of to Cairo or something. John will still be pretending so that Mags doesn't find out. JM

Jim: My da? NO. He's still your teacher. He'll still have the power to pull that shit. You already smacked him once and look where that got you. JM

Jim: If I decide he needs smacking you'll be the first to know. JM

Seb: That's all I needed to hear. Don't worry, I'll behave. And remember, if you do need to fuck off to Cairo you won't be short of money. I've got plenty.-SM

Jim: Thanks. I'm not going to have access to social services for a while. JM

Seb: Yeah, well, let me know what you need. And just the thought that one day I might be able to get back at your dad should keep me going. -SM

Jim: It’s the little things in life. I’ve got to go — feeling sick again. I’ll text you later. JM

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Jim returned, Magnussen had gathered the story, from Simon and Cyric, arguing and bickering until he'd bought James Moriarty in and snapped "find out what happened to your son and then tell me". He almost thought the man had enjoyed a chance to let loose for once, after having to hold himself back with the cadets. The story that had eventually come out was that the sergeant had bought in some other boyfriend, who'd misbehaved with Jim, and in the ensuing struggle Jim had escaped. From John Watson he picked up enough to know that an injured and wounded Jim had called him to London, and that a patched up yet possibly infectious Jim was now staying with him in an apartment in London. He made a mental note not to spill any blood around the boy and sent a sharp message to the staff: whatever they were doing to Jim Moriarty it was _not_ to involve open wounds or exchange of bodily fluids. Lestrade read that email, banged his head against the table several times, and considered getting a new job. Magnussen called John and asked them to come back a day early - time to get the story from Jim himself, to find out what he had to say, and to twist out the truth from all the versions.

  
Jim wasn’t happy about going back a day early but he had to admit there were some positives to it. This way at least he would know what the story was before Sebastian got back to school and they could know what direction their relationship would have to take as far as public knowledge went. Jim was most nervous about lying to Mags, not knowing what the Serge had told him. All he knew for sure was that Mags was aware he’d gone early and that he’d been with John. When the call came John and Jim packed up their bags and drove back up to the school. Jim was quiet and withdrawn and even John had to stop that relentless fake happiness he’d been more or less maintaining all week. Jim limped over to Mag’s office, embellishing a little bit. His ribs still hurt and he did walk with a limp but one of his eyes was open now and the other was only half swollen shut. The bruising around his face and abdomen had faded some but it would be a number of weeks before they left entirely. He knocked on the door, acting more polite and submissive, keeping his eyes glued to the floor and standing small in the doorway, one arm wrapped around the opposite elbow to put a wall between him and Magnussen. He would have to go carefully. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  
Magnussen looked at him, noting the damage, which was a lot worse than he'd been lead to believe by anyone. He hesitated, for a moment torn between two approaches, not sure whether to strike out while Jim was weak and vulnerable or to play a second-chance-glad-you've-learnt-your-lesson. Standing up, he came over to the door, wrapping an arm around Jim's shoulders and gently guiding him inside, shutting and bolting the door behind them. "My poor little spy, you did get burned." He murmured, sitting himself carefully on the side of the desk and wrapping the other arm around Jim, crowding him in close, looking over his injured face, "So very badly burnt. I told them to teach you a lesson, not half kill you, how on earth did you manage to escape?" He gave Jim a sharp glance and a smile, "Ahhh - that was not idle speculation, my littlest Moriarty. How did you get out? I've heard many stories, I want to hear yours.”

  
He did _not_ want Magnussen’s fucking hands on him and Jim allowed his body to react the way it wanted to, to tense up and barely keep from pulling away. Any trauma he could show would only make it more believable but he couldn’t go too far or Magnussen might consider him too broken and dispose of him. He didn’t miss Mags bolting the door behind them. CAM was in his face, way too close and it set Jim off balance more than he would have liked to admit. “You seem to have that problem a lot — overenthusiastic thugs.” Jim cleared his throat and glanced to the side, unconsciously pushing his body as far from Mags as he could in the small space he was afforded. “I didn’t escape. The sergeant had Moran’s boy at the house, he was trying to rape him when Cyric and I came in. My understanding was that the sergeant told Cyric to _deal_ with us and he let both of us go, gave me Moran’s phone to call John on. Is that not the story they told you?” Jim couldn’t help grinning a little, taking satisfaction in turning Mags on both those men. He hoped they died, stupid fuckers.

  
Magnussen stopped then, drawing back and looking at Jim, "Moran's boy?" This was new, completely new, and he squinted at Jim through his glasses, his brain scrolling through options. It was possible that Jim was trying to get the Moran boy into trouble, or lying to show that he could bring useful information. But the information fit well into the little cracks he'd noticed in the story that Moriarty had tugged out of the two men. "The Sergeant, my ex-Sergeant, tried to rape the son of Augustus Moran..." He was back behind the table in an instant, pulling out a blackberry and stabbing at it with long thin fingers, "What did he do - did he call the police? Threaten to call the police? Do you know if he's told his father? Who knows?”

  
Apparently information bought Jim space between them and that was almost reason enough, he felt real relief when Magnussen leaned back and away from him. “Yeah. They locked us in the basement for a while. I couldn’t — you know, move a lot, I had to get dragged or carried just about everywhere. I talked to him a little, this is what he said and what I observed. I think the sergeant invited him over, I don’t know how long Moran was there before Cyric brought me downstairs. He wanted to _swap_ us out. The sergeant - Simon or whoever. He had Sebastian’s trousers down around his ankles and pinned to the floor. I had a difficult time with my vision but it looked like he penetrated Moran digitally before leaving with Cyric. Moran seemed disillusioned to me, certainly angry. He didn’t get another chance to speak with Simon so I don’t know what his plans were. I’m assuming that since it’s been a week he hasn’t yet called the police. I have no idea if he told his father or not. And besides Cyric, Simon and I, I’m not sure who else knows.” Jim hoped that was enough good information while holding back the canning to save Sebastian’s privacy, that Mags would find it satisfactory. “Cyric…” Jim sniffled a little, letting his eyes water up some. “He wanted to make us have sex so that he could watch. Moran and I, I mean. Simon was — territorial and possessive.”

  
Magnussen nodded as he spoke, and looked up at Jim, giving an interested little noise as the boy reeled off a good set of facts - particularly considering the state he must have been in when they were gathered. "I need to confirm this, I'm sure you understand. You did very well. Did Moran hear? When that idiot threatened to make him fuck some beaten whore for his own entertainment?" The affect on Jim hardly bothered him, he was more concerned with what Sebastian might have reported. He stopped typing and gave an irritated "tch" at the general incompetence of the men he employed and then turned abruptly back to Jim. All the threatening, cajoling and discomforting air he'd generated from before were gone, now he simply spoke in clipped professional sentences. "I doubt Moran will want to speak to you, or interact with you in any way, however I'm sure you will be able to find some way to get him to tell you who he's told, and how much he's told. Whatever it requires - teasing him, or snivelling at him, pretending you are oh-so-worried or threatening to tell his father yourself. You know the boy? You know which approach works. If he hurts you too badly I can see to it that he is punished in kind.”

  
Jim felt a little light headed at Magnussen’s words, when he called him a whore. He wasn’t a whore. Not — not really. It took him a moment to regroup and focus on the best possible way to play Magnussen. “Yes, Moran was in the room. I don’t know that he registered it, he seemed pretty shaken up.” Magnussen seemed very angry but luckily this time Jim didn’t think it was with him. “I don’t know sir… he was pretty obsessed with me all through last semester. I didn’t tell you because I thought you would make me go back to him but he still… expressed interest in me, sexually, and when I turned him down he would get violent. Then the same thing a week later. I think I can get your information for you.” Jim thought he knew Sebastian well enough that he could work it out right now but that was not productive to what he was doing with Magnussen. He started crying slowly and shaking his head. “I’ll — I’ll get close to him just promise you won’t hurt me like that again. I thought they were going to kill me. I needed stitches and tests and I’ve been throwing up all week, please don’t make me do that again, I’ll do whatever you want. Fucking Moran is better than being fucked by all those people.”

  
Magnussen stilled then, looking at him, his admiration for the boy faintly clouded by disgust. He stepped forwards, sliding a thumb up Jim's face following the line of his tears and then pressing down when he got to Jim's injured eye. "That is the last time, Moriarty, that you don't tell me something because you are afraid of what I'll make you do. From now on, you tell me everything. Do what you have to with Moran - find out who he's told and what he's told them and, if possible, prevent him telling anyone else. I don't need you close to him other than to contain this, understand?" His thumb slid away from Jim's face and he took a step back, twitching his mouth into a small half smile. "i keep forgetting. You have only started this. Today, before you started crying, you were very useful, do you understand? If you continue to be useful I will look after you, keep you safe, punish those who hurt you, and give you little prizes and rewards. If you are not useful, if you are shaking and crying when you should be working, or snapping at me when you should be agreeing, or hiding back information from me - then you will be back in your father's custody and back in Cyric's attic-room. Do you understand?”

  
Jim winced as Magnussen pressed against his black eye with the tip of his thumb like he was thinking about gouging it out. “I understand, it won’t happen again. I made mistakes before but I’m on board now.” Jim wiped up his face quickly when it became clear that Magnussen was less than impressed by his tears. Still he made it look like he was making an effort to overcome them rather than turning them off like a spigot. “I’ll keep being useful to you. I just want to keep my head down and stay in one piece. I won’t make a fuss, promise.” Jim absolutely did not want to give Magnussen any reason to be looking into his custody status. That would give everything away. “Are Cyric and Simon going to be punished?” In his opinion he was the only one around here who seemed to get negative consequences for his actions. Very much a double standard.

  
Magnussen hesitated, he didn't really like giving rewards out to someone as far down the pecking order as Jim, but he felt the boy deserved something. Still, he put on a disapproving face and patted Jim's injured cheek non too gently, "Your Sergeant was already fired for you, and I've had your father pull the truth out of him and Cyric with a crowbar ..." He hesitated and then scowled, "And it was not even the truth. One of them - Simon or Cyric. You choose. One of them will be beaten, badly, hospitalised, outside a dark club in a dark alleyway." It would send a good message. He patted Jim's face again and pulled out his blackberry, "Which one?”

  
Jim debated for only a second before deciding, “Cyric.” Easily. Before this whole mess began he might have thought twice about having a man beaten for him but Jim was different now. He had a special hatred for the sergeant but he’d only encouraged Cyric and beaten him hard, it was Cyric that fucked him, that introduced that gag, that used the toilet brush on him, that beat Sebastian with a cane. Jim would save the sergeant for Sebastian later. “I want to see a photograph. I’m assuming you get a photographic confirmation sent to you anyway. All I ask is that I get to see too. It fosters trust.” Jim tilted his chin up and away from Magnussen’s hand.

  
Magnussen stepped back and then his raised hand cracked down over Jim's cheek. As soon as he'd landed the blow he was already moving back, adjusting his glasses, moving the topic on, turning to his paperwork, "I will send you proof. And you will not make demands of me, that is not how this works. Now get back to your room in the medical centre and I want to hear everything about Sebastian Moran in the first week." His voice was still soft, polite, unangered, as though the slap had never happened.

  
Jim had half expected the slap after his time with Cyric and he let his face turn to the side with the force. He tasted blood in his mouth and dabbed with his fingertips which came back red. He checked his stitches briefly with his tongue — all there, the skin tore a little against his teeth. “Whoopsie.” Jim muttered happily, taking a moment to stare at the bright color splashed against his fingertips. “That’s dangerous, you know. Not to you though, I suppose. Then again they won’t know for sure if I’m HIV positive yet, it can take up to three months for it to develop. Kind of shit that infection symptoms are all the same as Hep B, hmmm? I suppose we just won’t know for sure until it runs its course.” There was a danger to hurting Jim now. Magnussen could hit him and that was okay because nothing Magnussen was willing to do to him personally could be worse than what he’d had those men do and Jim had survived that. The traumatized were dangerous because they knew how to survive.

  
"Just go." Magnussen said, silently and deadly, "Before I decide you are too dangerous to keep alive." As soon as Jim was out of the door he was on his phone, stalking back to his desk and speaking in short clipped and angry sentences to whoever was on the other end.

 

* * *

 

 

There were a few more texts to and from Jim, all of them unsatisfactory, uncertain and leaving Sebastian with no clue as to what relationship they had or indeed what relationship they were pretending to have. It gave him plenty of time to rip out his room, stick in a training bar, weights, and try not to wonder whether he was in fact trying to turn himself into the sergeant. He arrived in the afternoon, watching all the boys unpack, laughing and joking and complaining, and it suddenly seemed all very dull and unimportant. Carl Powers knocked into him on the way to the showers and he almost automatically just slapped the back of the boy's head, not even feeling any malice. For a moment he'd been involved in something deep, and worrying - terrifying but also tantalisingly connected to something big. And now he was just back at school. As soon as he could he went to Moriarty's maze, checking he wasn't being watched before scrutinising it carefully. Standing at the beginning he hesitated, looked around again, and then tugged out a scarf, wrapping it around his eyes. Jumping up, he caught the first beam, grinning and swinging back and forward for a bit, trying to remember what was next. A lift up - hands scrambling for the balance beam and then he was on it - a meter above the ground. Placing one foot in front of the other he walked, blindfolded, pleased he'd practised this bit at least, and trying to remember what came next. Unlike his earlier failures he wasn't simply throwing himself into the system and waiting for the pain. He knew he'd have to peek through the blindfold eventually, and would do it sooner, rather than put himself in danger by waiting it out. But for now, he'd seen the first few challenges.

Jim was being kept away from the other boys for now while he healed — there had been too many fights last semester for anyone to feel comfortable with letting him getting into more scraps when they genuinely couldn’t know if he was HIV positive for a while longer. He needed time to physically heal and because Jim was excused from all morning classes it was decided he should stay with John in his quarters. Jim joined the other cadets at lunch and then went to the rest of afternoon and evening classes. He had ducked into the barracks, looking for Sebastian. He found the boy’s stuff but not him so Jim left quickly, avoiding the stares from the other boys. Even Carl seemed stunned by the state of Jim’s face. He went out looking for Sebastian and remembered him mentioning training, he looked for him on the assault courses. Sebastian was attempting to do the maze blindfolded and without anyone else around. “The wall is about ten feet to your left, you’re about to stumble around it dumbass.” Jim was grinning though, even if he was pretty sure Sebastian had lost his mind. 

  
Sebastian froze as he heard Jim's voice and then broke into a grin, carefully treading to the left, his feet feeling for hidden traps as he went. "Fuck - got lost again. And stop fucking sniggering, I can hear you doing it. I'm not doing this blind, I'm taking the scarf off every few seconds to check where I am. I just - wanted to see if it could be done." He found the wall, his hands gently tapping the top to find the areas without broken glass before he carefully hauled himself up, wobbling a little but resting on top of the wall, boots crunching against the glass, hands safely on brick. "Alright - has the fucker stuck anything new at the bottom of this? Or is it just jump down then across the rings?”

  
“It’s the same as it was before. He’s had a busy break from what Mags told me.” Jim gingerly sat down on the grass, trying to keep from overexerting himself lately because of the flu like symptoms he got from the Hep B. He wanted to be ready to start classes tomorrow, so far he’d only gotten sick once today and the fever seemed to be going down. John buzzed his hair again yesterday and Jim actually felt some relief that he couldn’t be dragged around anymore.

  
"Right..." Sebastian cautiously lowered himself down from the wall and tried a jump to find the first ring. It took some inelegant bouncing around with one flailed hand in the air but he did finally catch it, gripping and pulling himself half up (there was water below) and then biting his lip to stop his muscle complaining as he groped around for the next one. Without a blindfold, this part was easy, with one it required at least twice as much upper body power to slowly move from ring to ring. "How are you doing, anyway? You still look like shit?”

  
Jim watched on in amusement as Sebastian stumbled around, trying to find the rings. “You aren’t reaching far enough. Swing yourself a bit. Let your mind relax, your body knows where the next ring is supposed to be. Don’t over think it.” It actually felt good to be back in his uniform, which was ridiculous. For him it was practical and very welcome after spending a week not allowed to wear anything. “I’m alright. I’ve stopped getting sick, mostly. My body is still a mess but it will be a while before I’m able to join you lot for morning classes. I’m sure Darren will be glad to be rid of me.”

  
"Darren's like a neutered dog." Seb grunted, closing his eyes behind the blindfold and starting to swing himself one at a time, getting into a slow rhythm across the rings. "He's not yelled at us once this morning, just snapping at everyone through normal exercises." He got to the end of the rings and dropped, hesitating. He hadn't mapped out the next set of trials, but he didn't want to take the blindfold off now he had Jim to aid him. "Is it the net next, yeah? Fuck..." the net was simple enough to crawl under but it was laced with live wires and there wouldn't be much of a way to stop them or look out for them.

  
Jim rolled his eyes, sighing and relaxing in the grass. “ _No one’s_ hardcore enough for you now, if they aren’t a rapist, beating little boys until they piss blood, then they’re _neutered._ Only real men have the stomach to put kids in the hospital. Anything short of that and they might as well not be men at all.” Jim’s voice was heavy with sarcasm and he was suddenly tired of this exercise. “Just stop for now, okay? You are seriously going to hurt yourself. The maze was meant to be done without vision impairment but at high speeds. You are not using a tool the way it’s meant to be used. Like trying to lift a dumbbell with your tongue. Sure, maybe you will get a little stronger but it’s also a lot more likely to just knock your teeth out. Use the tool correctly and you’ll see more of an improvement. Please keep in mind that I am relying on you to be physically able-bodied while I am not. If something happened and we needed to run you have the ability to carry me or the bags at least but if you zap the shit out of yourself or twist your ankle you aren’t going to be helpful to me. Get stronger. That’s helpful. Punishing yourself by doing a fucked up trust exercise _by yourself,_ which _completely defeats the purpose of the exercise,_ is just stupid and a good way to get hurt. If you want a real test I’ll get out one of the practice guns and shoot at you as you go through the course. But only after you’ve proved you can get through it. Stop skipping steps, stop hurting yourself, focus in and _train.“_ He huffed angrily and laid out carefully on his back in the grass so he could look up at the sky, not caring if Sebastian took his advice or not. He’d said his piece and if Sebastian wanted to continue running head first into a brick wall then there was nothing he could do.

  
Sebastian scowled behind the blindfold, "Yeah, basically. People are either dangerous or unimportant. That's becoming rapidly fucking clear. And this isn't a punishment you stupid fuck, it's a training exercise." Despite swearing, he did as he was told, tugging the blindfold off and retracing his steps. The elation he'd felt from actually getting through even a small section of the maze blindfolded crashed down into weariness, but Jim was _right_ the annoying fucker, he wasn't ready for this and it as irresponsible to put Jim in danger for his own ego. Coming over he dropped the blindfold on the floor next to Jim and scowled. Just because he was being sensible didn't mean he had to like it. "Any news from either of your bosses on how I'm meant to treat you now? Or should I just keep with ignoring you? Don't see you much anyway..." He sighed and sat down next to Jim, pleased to see him during the break, "Yeah, you still do look pretty shite, is Watson feeding you enough?”

Jim barely held back an eye roll, not able to keep up with Sebastian’s mood swings. He gave a slap to the back of the boy’s leg where he knew there would still be bruising from the cane. “Don’t talk to me like that. Your mother would be so disappointed.” Jim grinned and laid back in the grass, watching Sebastian standing up high above him. “I have something really unpleasant to ask you and I want you to know it’s your choice. I think it’ll provide a good opportunity to get some people that you’re pissed with hurt. Mags wants me to ask you who you told about what happened with the sergeant. I know you wouldn’t tell anyone but I’m going to ask you to. I want you to tell your da. There’s fuck all either of us can do to get back at Mags without ended up in Cyric’s attic or beaten with a crowbar by my father but your da doesn’t have the same restraints. Mags is trying to take your father down, destroy him or control him. Maybe we can encourage him to fight back.” He gripped Sebastian’s ankle through his boot, the only part of him he could reach from the ground. “I’m not going to go behind your back and do it myself. This has to be your decision because it affects your privacy. Do you think if you told you father about what happened here at school, what almost happened in the house, and said that Mags knew about it the whole time he’d try and strike back at Mags?”

Sebastian gave a little hiss as Jim slapped on a fading bruise. Most of the damage was now gone, thankfully, but the move was still a pretty damn significant one as far as Seb was concerned - Jim hadn't forgotten the bruises, and was willing to use them. That made them Jim's bruises. Slowly, he crouched down in front of Jim thinking hard, "Da won't give a shit what happened during the school - other than to be disappointed in me for giving blowjobs." He said slowly, to give himself a bit more time to think through what Jim wanted. "Being held down, almost fucked, and having my arse beaten - yeah, he'd be pissed as hell at that. Maybe not enough to actually do anything, but certainly enough to want to, and to add it to all the other reasons he hates Mags. If I convince him Mags came up with the idea he would go pretty apeshit - fuck..." He shook his head. "I should've taken a picture of them right after it happened. Didn't think..." That hadn't been the only reason. He'd not been able to face up to it at all, but now he'd got his head around it he could see they'd missed a bit of a chance.  
  
Jim stared at him blankly, not really understanding. “Your father wouldn’t care that you were being sexually molested by a member of staff while you were here at Magnussen’s school?” He’d thought that would be the much stronger card. It occurred to him that Sebastian was probably still thinking of their relationship as consensual. “You couldn’t consent. If Magnussen started talking to me like that, gave me orders like that, would that be okay? It wouldn’t. Because there’s a power imbalance. Don’t worry about pictures, it’s a strange enough story that he will probably believe you without proof. Besides, he saw the news article about the Sergeant abusing students.”   
  
Sebastian looked down with a breath, knowing this was the last bit of truth he had to accept - that _every_ aspect of his relationship with the Sergeant had been unhealthy and controlling, that he'd been used and victimised without his consent. He wasn't a soldier getting his rocks off, but a kid being abused, and whenever he tried to think that way his mind just veered into Cyric's words - Cyric who'd _known_ Sebastian was just a stupid little kid and had found it hilarious Sebastian didn't. Gritting his teeth he nodded. "Yeah. I could... tell him that. That I was one of the kids being abused. And..." he hesitated again, "You know, I find it hard to believe that the medical room we got taken to afterwards wasn't swarming with cameras. Bet you anything Mycroft has a picture of exactly what I looked like. Bet the fucker even wanks off to it. Is - is this plan coming from him?”  
  
“Hey…” Jim sat up again so that he was eye level with Sebastian. The other boy was obviously feeling shit over having to accept that he’d been hurt and Jim wasn’t going to let him wallow. He grabbed Sebastian’s chin and made him look at him. “I got hurt, do you think that what they did to me makes me weak? That week was the price for keeping you out of this mess, and I paid it. I’m fighting back now. You’re fighting back. We’re not weak.” He let go of Sebastian’s chin but stroked the side of his face instead. “If your father really wants proof we could talk to Mycroft about video footage. But you can’t just go and assume that everyone is like the sergeant either. Mycroft isn’t a good person but I guarantee you that he doesn’t masturbate to evidence of abuse.” Jim pinched Sebastian’s nose fondly. “Is he the only one allowed to come up with good ideas? This is a Moriarty original. I haven’t discussed this with Mycroft, I wanted to get your okay first so that he wouldn’t try and force it somehow if you said no.”

After the event with the Sergeant, Sebastian had spent the holiday convincing himself that loving, caring for, or indeed admiring anyone was a sign of completely lunacy and weakness, and now he was falling in love all over again. Jim was there in front of him, talking about revenge, revenge he needed Sebastian to implement. He managed a scowly sort of grin to hide how pleased he was, that they weren't both being patsy's for Mycroft's plans, and then nodded. "Yeah, it's a weapon, we might as well use it. I'll call him tonight, let him know, and we can easily pretend I told him over the holiday. He certainly won't do anything suddenly.”

Jim returned his grin, “You know you sound really funny when you try and talk while I’m pinching your nose.” He settled in the grass and pulled Sebastian down next to him, careful to keep a little bit of space. “I haven’t entirely worked out what our public relationship should look like. Mags didn’t seem to think you’d want anything to do with me but I told him you were panting after me all semester, chasing me around and hitting me.” Jim grinned teasingly. “We could start something, maybe. I just don’t have enough information. It sounded like all he wanted from you was to know who you told about spring break. That means you aren’t on his long term target list right now, which is what I was working towards. He might want me available for other people. I think our best bet is to advertise this as a physical relationship with no personal feelings. We sneak out of bed for hate sex in the woods.” Jim’s grin grew and he rolled over so that he could press his lips briefly to Sebastian’s.

Sebastian batted at his head, holding back at the last minute so the back of his hand just brushed Jim's hair and feeling a little dizzy as Jim was pulling him down into the grass, "You want me to chase you around and hit you? Think I could manage that? Of course a deep and desperate unrequited crush might be a little _hard_ \- I'm not that great an actor." He smirked and then closed his eyes, his breath catching as Jim's lips pressed gently against his. One hand moved to press against the back of Jim's head, "h-how about fumbling in the grass outside your dad's lodgings, d-do you think Magnussen would approve of that?" He asked, a little urgently.

Jim couldn’t help feeling pleased with himself because of how gentle Sebastian was. He knew that it was because he was hurt and over half his body was bruised but still — he had to have some power if the boy went from beating the hell out of him to half heartedly smacking the back of his head. “I know, I thought it was the prefect role for you.” Jim grinned and kissed Sebastian briefly again. “You know I say fuck Mags and all but we might need to lay some ground rules while I’m recovering.” He rolled over on top of Sebastian pinning the boy down lightly by his shoulders. “John took my stitches out yesterday so my mouth is good to go. My arse is on the mend, but it’s still sore. No unprotected sex until I can get tested again for HIV in a few months. You can’t get Hep B if you were immunized as a baby but I could have HIV. Not going to take the chance. John bought lube and condoms, he’s cleared out his office and set a little bed up in there for me. Apparently me catching something has overridden his uncertainty about my sexual activity or however he put it. As for the rest… maybe you shouldn’t be on top of me for a while. It’s just not good for my head, or my body.” Jim grinned and pushed down on Sebastian’s shoulders with his hands and wiggled his hips around a little. “Besides, I like this.”

"Rules - right..." Sebastian gave a little whimper as Jim rolled on top of him - sure the hands pinning his shoulders down here just for show, he could easily have thrown the smaller boy except for the fact that the light touch seemed to be bolting his shoulders in place, and Jim giving him 'rules' while grinding his sexy little arse down was making his brain fuse somehow. "Unh... so... I'm not allowed in your arse, shame..." He reached behind to give it a little squeeze. "But we can still have condom sex? I don't - fuuuuu..." His brain did the joined up thinking and his face flushed, squeezing Jim's arse even harder before he remembered it was injured and quickly relaxed, "Y-yeah I like this too. Fuck, Jim.”

He decided then that his words were rather wasted on Sebastian at this moment and he should probably try again later, maybe when he wasn’t grinding on the other boy. “Give it a few more days. Physically I should be in better straights by then.” He still wasn’t sure what kind of shape his head would be in, how much he could tolerate. Jim wasn’t afraid of Sebastian though. At some point he’d wormed his way into Jim’s head, deep enough to override the instincts that sent him skittering away if anyone else so much as rested a hand on his shoulder. John had just stopped any physical contact after a couple days. As stupid as it was, Jim associated Sebastian with safety and as long as they went slow and avoided triggering situations Jim thought they would be okay. “But yes, sex with condoms will be okay.” He gave a little yelp as Sebastian squeezed his arse and set it stinging. “Hey — the hate sex is just for show.” He smiled a little and flattened himself over Sebastian, kissing him lazily in the grass. “This is much more exciting than that stupid maze, isn’t it?”

"You want to be in some better straights than me?" Sebastian smirked, and then stopped talking as Jim kissed him again, his hands moving up to steady Jim around his waist, letting their body's press together and sliding a tongue around his lips. It was nice like this - he enjoyed looking up as it wasn't triggering him back at all, and having a little eager body on top of him was enjoyable for all sorts of reasons. "You know what I like." He murmured as the kiss split up, "Danger, fun, opportunities to hit people. So far you're scoring higher than the maze on all three.”

Jim rested his elbows on either side of Sebastian’s head so that he could bend down to kiss him easier. He didn’t want this with anyone else. Magnussen had implied that he might be setting Jim on someone else. There were plenty of rich boys with influential fathers with big houses for Jim to get himself invited to. He just couldn’t imagine having this ease with another person, couldn’t imagine Sebastian tolerating it. The other boy pressed his hardening cock up against Jim and it gave him pause. He opened his eyes and took a breath, looking closely at Sebastian’s face, touching his nose and his mouth and his eyebrows. Jim knew that face. It was okay.

Sebastian's cock was hard, but he was savvy enough notive Jim's hesitation, and now he had a context for what that meant, having experienced it himself. Looking up at Jim he carefully moved his hands away from his body and placed them on the grass, stopping his hips from moving. "Won't move." He whispered, "You're in control, completely, for as far as you want to go." he knew that out here in the damp grass with no condoms and still both traumatised there was a limited amount they could do but right now he wanted everything they _could_ do before he had to pretend to be angry at Jim again.

He managed a little smile and a nod, feeling overwhelmed with feeling for this stupid boy who sometimes knew exactly what to do. “You’d better not… I’ve earned a bit of a reputation as a biter! I’ll leave a big old hickey on your neck and all of the other boys will tease you for it.” Jim teased as he started unbuttoning the front of Sebastian’s uniform shirt, running his hands under the boy’s vest where his skin lay. “You’ve been working out? I mean it’s only been a week but I can still see a difference.” Jim bit his lip while he deliberated for a second before whispering, “I want you to touch me. Can you get me off? I need to try.”

Sebastian gave a little shudder as Jim mentioned his 'reputation' - the panic that happened whenever he thought of Cyric dying down as Jim complimented his abs, "Yeah, got into the swing of it a bit." It had been part displacement, part self-punishment, and part of a dark coldness that had settled down over him, a desire to find people and hurt them - not even for the wonderful joy and fun of a fight he might loose, but it a very clear and obvious and one-sided way. He nodded at Jim's question, kissing the top of his head, "Course I can. Fuck, I'd love to. What's the best way for you to do it - yeah? Wanna order me around like a bossy little fucker while I give your dick the best fucking hand-job it's ever received? Or just stay silent and lie on all my new abs while I look after you." There was a fair amount of smugness in his voice at both suggestions.

“Mhmmmm…” Jim knew that Sebastian had been punishing himself, that’s why he called out the behavior when it took it too far with the maze. He scratched down the front of Sebastian’s stomach, tugging his shirt up round his nipples and pressing his mouth to the skin. He alternated between using his mouth and tongue and teeth, paying special attention to all the areas he knew Sebastian was more sensitive. “Mmmm, I’m comfortable here. Just touch me, I’ll try and tell you if something goes wrong.” Sometimes Jim just went still and shut down and felt like he couldn’t speak, like he had that gag in his mouth again, but that was just his stupid fucked up head and he figured that Sebastian would notice that much.

Sebastian flushed at just how knowing the noise Jim made was and shook his head with a small grin, "Look - you know that about me, yeah? I fucking self destruct - even your damn dad knows that about me. I'm currently trying to find a way of doing it that doesn't get me half killed by a fucking wanker and ... yeah not having much success..." he grumbled, moaning as Jim's tongue and teeth nipped and ran over his chest, the kind of feelings he hadn't felt for fucking ages. The hot little trysts they'd had before the holiday seemed like years away. One hand pressed on Jim's lower thigh, then slid up and around his body to fumble inexpertly at his trouser fastenings. "Yeah I bet you'll tell me. Huh.”

“Yeah, well you aren’t the only one with self destructive habits. If we weren’t both like that we wouldn’t even be seeing each other. Working out is good, just try and do it in a way that will actually get results and help you improve.” Jim had an idea in the back of his mind, niggling, trying to work out how he could talk Lestrade into coaching Sebastian and convincing Sebastian to go with it. Danger, fun, and opportunities to hit people. Right. Sebastian needed guidance, eventually, in his training and that really wasn’t Jim’s area. “Less talking, more touching, yeah? Are you going to be okay if I — can’t return the favor today?”

"Do you mean am I going to be okay with you snapping at me not to do the maze, slapping me for being an idiot in my training, ordering me to give you a hand-job then leaving me hard and aching in the grass?" Sebastian groaned and pushed his cock up against Jim's leg, "See this - this is a _sensible_ way to punish myself. Fucking love you Jim." And then before he said anything more embarrassing he nuzzled Jim's mouth up for another kiss while his hand slid inside Jim's trousers, sliding along the hard length inside and moaning deep into his mouth.

Jim really didn’t understand how he could say that so easily, how he could just throw himself at his feet every time when Jim could never say it back. That never stopped Sebastian though and Jim had to admire his dedication at least. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, yeah? I don’t want anyone else.” He’d had other people and it had been _awful_ and painful and humiliating and Jim’s heart pumped furiously as he squeezed little handfuls of Sebastian’s vest in his hands. Sebastian kissed him and he was grateful because he didn’t want to do anything embarrassing like cry. Jim hadn’t broken down yet, he felt like he was barely holding it all back, walking on eggshells around the issue and avoiding anything that might set it off. Making out with Sebastian in the glass, letting him touch him, was like trowing rocks in a field of land mines. He squirmed as Sebastian wrapped a hand around him cock, gasping quietly and biting at his lip to keep quiet.

Sebastian felt himself lifting up on Jim's words - so he couldn't get out an 'I love you' - he'd not at all been expecting it, but he'd been saying practically everything else. He slid his thumb over the head of Jim's cock, then wrapped his hands down the shaft, jerking gently while kissing all over Jim's lips, and jawline. No bites, not this time, just kisses while his hand worked away and his other hand lazily fisted in the grass. "I know - shhh - s'okay. You might, dunno, might have to but I know, _know_ what you want. An - an I'd never have to. 'M just for you.”

“Ah - oh fuck…” Jim bucked his hips into Sebastian’s hand, watching the other boy’s face the whole time. It helped ground him. He latched onto the scenery and Sebastian and the position he was in and the fact that he was still wearing all his clothes because it meant he wasn’t in Cyric’s attic room with that gag jammed between his teeth and a cock in his mouth. Sebastian and him were alone and there was no one laughing and jeering while he reacted to his touch. It was different. Sebastian kissed his face and his mouth and Jim pressed back against him happily. Sometimes he really didn’t think he deserved how much value Sebastian attributed to him, but then he’d paid for Sebastian’s freedom in ways that he wasn’t sure he could ever earn back so maybe they felt the same way. “You’re mine. You should get my name tattooed on your arse.” Jim grinned teasingly and tried to relax as Sebastian teased and stroked him. “Fuck I missed you. Wished you were there all week in the city so you could get me pizza and bring me an extra pillow and all that shit. My personal slave for spring break.”

He'd been so certain, so _ridiculously_ certain that after his puppy-crush on the Sergeant had reached such a horrific end he was going to be strong staid and emotionless. Sebastian Moran - no feelings except the end of a fist, no desire except to train and to kill. And now evry word coming out of Jim was setting him on fire, somewhere in a depth he didn't know he had. Jim wanted him, wanted to _own_ him, and “fuck..." he groaned, just at the thought. "N-nah, too obvious, your name. Everyone could see. 'S compromising." His hands gently stroked Jim's back and then his brain fused again as the words 'personal slave' worked their way into the mix. “Guhh..."  
  
“Compromising?” Jim asked rhetorically as he continued to stroke the bare skin of Sebastian’s chest. “I’d say you’re already pretty fucking compromised. You are far too easy to tease. If I can’t get you off then I’ll give you plenty of material so that you can continue the loud wanking tradition from last semester.” Jim was embarrassingly close for the short amount of time Sebastian had been stoking him. He hadn’t masturbated at all since his escape from the attic, Cyric had made Jim touch himself and filmed it — it was not something he liked to think about so he hadn’t been able to make himself do it. Sebastian’s hands were very familiar though and he felt okay about this. Every little bit was a victory. A nice big _fuck you_ to the sergeant and Cyric.

"Pretty fucking compromised hmm?" Sebastian growled, low but not angry, "Well yeah you've got my arse on a platter. Heh" He concentrated on his hand movements, rather pleased that Jim wasn't getting him off as well because he could concentrate on the other, watch his face, watch his body. He wouldn't hear any kind of 'love you' not for a while, but he could see it in Jim's body, and feel it in his muscles, the caught voice, the uncertain tremour of his breathing. It felt like doing the maze blind again, inching his way forward, each step a success but no guarentee things might not suddenly go wrong. So he stayed careful, kissing when he could, sliding his hands over breathily and murmuring, "I will absolutely be noisily wanking tonight.

“That’s okay, I wouldn’t like you if you were immune to my charms.” Jim’s voice came out a lot breathier than he meant for it too but he was close and couldn’t feel embarrassed. “Ah - ah… Mmmmmm…” He was still trying to keep pretty quiet, they _were_ outside in the middle of the afternoon, but Jim couldn’t be entirely silent either. “Stay in my room tonight… I don’t know if Lestrade will allow it, but fuck him. We can — figure stuff out.” Sebastian’s skin was warm underneath his feverish skin and as Jim felt his orgasm build his cheeks flushed and it spread down to his neck and under shirt. “Oh god… fuck me!” Jim moved so that he could come on the grass instead of on Sebastian’s clothes. The release seemed to unlock something in Jim and suddenly there were tears on his face and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Embarrassed, he pressed down against Sebastian and tucked his face into the boy’s vest so that he wouldn’t see as he gasped for breath.

"If you're supposed to be re-seducing me I think we can get away with it..." Sebastian growled and then came up with an Idea - stopping his hand briefly to breath - I know... tonight is where you wrangle the information out of me that I've told my dad. It'll take a loooong time - I might get a bit... handy with you, you might have to _suffer_ through a certain amount of my talking and kissing you, who knows you may even find yourself having to get your dick wriggled deep inside me just to get the information out of me." He started moving his hand again, gasping a Jim came and squirming, his hard cock pressing up against Jim's thigh as he whimpered, "Unh, you couldn't, c'mon, hand job or something?”

“Fucking stop,” Jim groaned, pushing Sebastian away, rubbing his cock against Jim was really not helping him push back the panic attack he’d been putting off for the last two weeks. Jim sniffed and glared, “Seriously? Is this a turn on for you or something? Not the time.” He couldn’t stop crying but for now he focused on trying to get his breathing under control instead before he lost it. He grabbed Sebastian’s hand and squeezed hard, looking up to his face expectantly. Jim didn’t cry like this, he didn’t have breakdowns and he didn’t know what to do. “Can’t breathe. Why can’t — I breathe?”

And now he'd swung for a ring, missed it, and was lying face down in a pile of muddy water. Jim was panicking, and he wasn't sure what to do with it. Pushing himself up, he let Jim sit in his lap, looking at him uncertainly, pushing thoughts of his abandoned cock out of the way for the moment. "I-I don't know. Should I - should I do CPR, fuck..." He had in no way been trained for this, but he could tell that rutting against Jim's leg hadn't been the best way to go, "'S me, here. Sebastian. Wet grass. Yer okay.”  
  
Jim’s head started to get all tingly and it felt a little bit like he was dying. So he held his breath. If he was breathing too fast and breathing regular wasn’t working he thought if he stopped breathing it might be better. His lungs still spasmed in his chest and he had to cough a few times but eventually he got the hang of it — holding his breath as long as he could and then slowly exhaling and then starting again. “M okay.” was the first thing he said when he was sure that the panic attack wasn’t going to hit him again. “I just… haven’t been dealing well. I’ve kind of buried everything and tried not to think about it.” Objectively, Jim seriously needed to be seeing some kind of therapist or counselor but even if one was offered there wasn’t any guarantee he’d feel comfortable enough to share anything with a stranger anyway. Jim gripped Sebastian’s wrists and sighed a deep breath, wiping at his sloppy face with his shoulder.

"S'okay..." Sebastian repeated a bit numbly, just sitting there next to Jim, not really sure what he could do. Thankfully Jim seemed to know and he just waited, waiting for him to breath again and holding his hand when he was passed over, watching Jim wipe his face, "Nah, s'all okay. I can hardly talk about crying too much, heh." He managed a small half smile, wanting to pat Jim but keeping away from him until he felt more ready.

“I’m worried.” Jim muttered uncharacteristically as he leaned back against Sebastian’s chest in his lap. “You know. That I’m going to be fucked up forever. That Mags or Mycroft will keep giving me jobs like this. Thanks for the hand job by the way, it was so good that I think I shed a tear or two.” Jim laughed quietly at the horrible joke as he mopped at his face a little. “You cry more than I do.” Jim pointed out. “I’m allowed one cry after what happened. We don’t have to talk about it.”

"Don't cry anymore." Sebastian muttered, not sure if he was talking about himself or talking to Jim. Either way, he wasn't happy about it. He wrapped his arms around Jim and thought as stoicly as he could about unsexy things as far as he could with a little warm Jim in his lap and the smell of cum in the air. "Ah, everyone's fucked up forever. And you won't be always taking orders from those fuckers, because you're already coming up with plans for yourself.”

“Okay, yeah shit. I was — trying not to, you know.” He’d been in shock, numb for the last week while he recuperated in bed and kept away other thoughts with endless reruns. Now it was starting to really hit him what had happened and that was scary and humiliating and left him feeling like someone had hollowed out all his insides except for the hot humiliation he couldn’t seem to shake. He started to straighten out their clothes, still enjoying their time alone together. “Do you want to go and bother John until lights out? I’m going to warn you he’s got me going to bed early because I’ve been ill and recuperating and everything. I’m sure if I agree to eat all of my vegetables he’ll agree to let you stay tonight.” Jim said snidely.

"Yeah I did it pretty much non-stop for twenty-four hours after." Look at that, his cock was going down all of its own accord. He grinned at the suggestion, not least because it allowed him to go one over Lestrade and also despite the sudden unhappiness of his penis he did want to spend more time with Jim, as much as possible really. "Oh I don't know, going to bed early sounds a good idea." He tried a smirk and then stood up, lifting Jim to a standing position with him, "Besides, I bet John's cooking is better than the canteen.”

It made Jim feel a little better that Sebastian had his own cry about what happened over spring break, made him feel less fragile and pathetic. “You know, he’s really not a better cook but we stole a bunch of the leftover groceries to spite Mycroft so I think there’s a frozen pizza in the freezer?” Jim got up and held Sebastian’s hand, twining their fingers together and leading him back towards John’s. “Hey,” he called out when they got to the med center. “John? We’re here.” They made it to the living room where he saw Lestrade trying and failing to shove a bottle between the couch cushions and both of them were attempting to look a lot more sober than they were. Jim didn’t blame them, it was Sunday, the day before classes started again on Monday. They weren’t on duty really. It was just _weird._ “You two sure are chummy. Seb and I were going to make some grub do either of you want any?”

"What is Sebastian doing in here, doesn't - doesn't he hate you?" Lestrate stood rather unsteadily and looked confused at them both while John put a hand on his arm and shoot his head.

"It's... complicated. They'll be fine. You, uh, sort yourselves out, alright?"

With that he closed the door, shutting Seb and Jim out and Sebastian grinned, shaking his head, "Haha... how long before they fuck, do you recon?”

Jim shuddered a little and shook his head. “Yeah… no. If they did they’d both seriously regret it in the morning. John’s still got a thing for that boy I played tongue hockey with.” Jim took Sebastian by the hand and led him to the kitchen where he set the oven to pre-heat. “So is this one of those things where we say we’ll split the pizza but you end up eating two thirds of it anyway?”

"Wait, _what?"_ It took Seb a moment of incandescent rage to remember Sherlock and calm his ruffled feathers, "Oh. Yeah. The Holmes kid. Really? Well takes all sorts I guess. Isn't the Holmes kid not that much older than me?" He shook his head with a smirk and then shrugged, "You need to eat, and I'm not facing the Wrath of Drunk Watson for starving you. But, yeah, I probably will eat two thirds of it.”

Jim tilted his head to the side and tried to think. “Sherlock’s… eight years older than you? Ten years older than me and ten years younger than John.” He snorted and tried to shush Sebastian, “Don’t let him hear you… Alright alright, we can always add some crisps to it or something… I wonder if he’s going to remember my meds…?” Jim hopped up on the counter with a wince from the pain in his arse but pulled Sebastian towards him, between his spread legs so that he could kiss him. “We can just do this all day, right? We don’t have anything _specific_ we need to get done.”

"Yeah, yeah, except he acts like a whining emo teen." Seb grumbled, having sat through far too many dull dinners with Sherlock scowling away in the corner like a large spiky black beetle curled up on a chair. He grinned as he was tugged between Jim's legs, watching warily to check Jim was doing okay before kissing him back, hands sliding gently around the back of his head, "Mmm... well... I've gotta get back to my classes next morning but yeah, we can do this all night…"

“Noooo…” Jim laughed, trying to think of a way to defend Sherlock from that. The problem was it was a pretty accurate assessment. “He’s just — emotionally immature. Come on, how do you think _you_ would have turned out with Mycroft for a brother? He shared his coke with me, that makes him alright in my book.” He sighed as Sebastian watched him warily. “Sorry you’ve got to be all watchey with me. I wish that I could smack you around and then we could have hate sex and make up after but I guess we just won’t have those kind of things for a little while.” Jim kissed him back, working his hands down Sebastian’s trousers so that he could grip his arse under the material, staying away from his cock for now. “I’ll make a serious go at getting you off later. But if it’s too much it’s too much. It might be something that’s uncomfortable for a little bit but by doing it I’ll get over it. Like after my da started dunking my head in the bathtub when I was little I was terrified of water — didn’t want to bathe, didn’t want to swim, especially if he was near by. But I did it, in ways that I could tolerate at first and then I started to enjoy myself again, now I’m not afraid of water.” Okay maybe he was still extremely wary of being around his father and water at the same time but that was just common sense.

Sebastian moaned as Jim pressed down against his skin, squeezing nicely at the final healing bruises and marks that Cyric had left, and his cock was already jumping up again. "It's fine... believe me, I can get myself off no problem." He grinned, bumping forward to kiss Jim's nose. "And stop talking about your da. He's not here, just I'm here, and for once I want you to damn well concentrate on me." He raised an eyebrow though, at the idea of Jim and Sherlock doing coke and getting all silly and giggly together. It was... hot - but only in a way that made him feel like Cyric and he flushed a little. "We'll both get over it. Don't worry.”

Jim grinned as he kissed him, “Yeah, I know you can.” He tentatively reached out and cupped Sebastian’s erection though his trousers, willing to try even if it freaked him out. He wasn’t directly touching him, which made it easier, and he hadn’t given many hand jobs while he had been in the attic. What made him uncomfortable was touching another man’s erection. “You’re a selfish little bastard, aren’t you?” Jim was only teasing and he bit at Sebastian’s lower lip. The oven dinged and he got down off the counter. “Do you like cheese or pepperoni?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack


	6. I'm Not a Walking Slut-Machine Like You

Jim was called to Mag’s office shortly after, it was a bit of gossip around the academy that Sebastian had stayed the night away from his bunk and came back with love bites under his uniform. The speculation was that it was Jim who he had stayed with, which was what made the gossip interesting after their Christmas breakup and the fall out over the semester. He had the information Mags needed so he didn’t mind coming in a little earlier than his deadline by the end of the week. Jim knocked and was invited inside, keeping his head down and eyes on the floor, looking nervous. Jim hoped he wouldn’t be held accountable for the information he was about to give, but to help himself he was going to keep his head down. “I spoke with Moran, sir. He didn’t want to talk about it, took a little persuasion, but eventually he said that he’d told his father right before he came back to the academy. He said it was easier to tell him when he was about to go back to school. Moran didn’t have any knowledge about what kind of action his father might take.”

Magnsussen listened to him and then nodded, smiling and reaching behind him to the cabinet, where he poured out a small shot of clear vodka and handed it to Jim. "Well done. And you are not too badly injured? He didn't get too angry at you for your part?" His eyes raked over Jim's body, clearly assessing whether one of his weapons might be damaged, but he seemed satisfied. "I do hope you didn't compromise your healing too much." He continued, clearly not believing a word of it. "Well done. Obviously he will not trust you much, but do stay in his good books. And I have another task for you to pick up, but of course with tasks comes rewards." Picking up a manilla folder he tossed it across the table towards Jim and nodded. Inside were a several pictures of Cyric in a hospital bed, leg in a cast, face badly damaged, along with photocopied hospital notes detailing his position. “Enjoy."

Jim hated it when Magnussen smiled but it was far better than when he was frowning. He took the shot carefully, holding back a shudder as Magnussen brushed his fingers across Jim’s as he handed him the shot glass. Jim drained it in a second and set the empty glass on Mag’s desk. He would have been nervous about drinking around him but he could handle that much, could use it actually to settle his nerves a little. “Thank you. I’m fine, your concern is appreciated.” He tried to keep his tone cool and professional, hoping Mags would respond better to that since Jim was still getting into his good books. “Task?” He took the envelope with numb fingers, eagerly opening it and assessing how much damage had been done to Cyric. Quite a lot. Nothing permanent. Jim saw that he was marked for no blood born diseases which meant that Jim had gotten Hep B from one of the other men who used him and he hadn’t given it to Cyric. The information was certainly a pleasure to look through and Jim quietly committed it all to memory. “Thank you for showing me this.” He tucked everything back in the envelope and set it down on the desk next to the shot glass. “What is this new task you mentioned?”

"Babysitting." Magnussen said with a small smirk, "At least until I know you're clean. Sometimes I have to use... the less than clever. I want you to keep an eye on one of them, make sure he's not doing anything too foolish." On cue there was a knock on the door and as Magnussen raised his voice to call out a "come in."

Carl Power's entered, looking a little confused to see Jim there, and licking his lips, "You, um, wanted to see me Sir? Is he... is he staying?"

Magnussen raised a hand and waved it, "Not at all. You have done some excellent work for me regarding your father and... well... I promised you a reward, didn't I? From now on, Jim will look after you. We'll move him to sleep in the bunk beneath yours - if you need any aid in your work, or indeed just someone to carry out basic tasks, ask him." Carl smirked at Jim, a smirk which faded as Magnusen looked down at him disapprovingly. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to hurt him, or remind you that he has a high probability of carrying a dangerous bloodborne disease. But you said you wanted someone to aid you, and now you have Jim.”

Jim never had anyone else at one of these meetings and he didn’t like it. “Sir — I’m still recuperating, will I be moved to his bunk immediately or when I’ve received a clean bill of health?” He knew that Magnussen might “speed up” his healing. Jim turned on Magnussen feeling furious and surprised but trying to hide it. “What do you mean you ‘don’t have to remind him?’ Why does he know my medical information in the first place?” Jim watched Carl warily, not at all liking his smug grin and remembering that first day of interaction when Carl practically tired to molest him in the showers.

"There are enough rumours about your current medical condition. Just as there are plenty of rumours about the state Sebastian Moran was in this morning, hmm?" Magnussen said, watching Carls' face and seeing clearly that a few more rumours had probably just been started. "You will move to the bunk _below_ his immediately. I do not expect you to share bunks but he may need something in the night. You are a little wildcat Moriarty." Coming over he put his hands on Jim's shoulders from behind, bending low to his ear and whispering, "Watch him for me. He will do something foolish. I want to know when he does and then... then we have him." Patting Jim's shoulders he stood, and flicked at the side of Carls' face. "Behave. He is not your sex toy. You did not see what Moran looked like when we managed to untie him…"

Jim stared at Magnussen, unamused, but he was benefiting from the man’s lies. At least until Carl started pushing Jim around and realized he wouldn’t fight back. He wasn’t allowed to when he was on a job for Mags. He’d never hit Sebastian or told him no when it was this same scenario last semester. “Yes, sir. I’ll be sure to move my things as soon as possible.” This made him very unhappy indeed. Carl’s bunk was practically on the opposite side of the barracks from Sebastian’s. True, they were small, but still. “Will that be all, sir?” That was more than enough already, in Jim’s opinion.

Magnussen nodded, "That is all. For both of you."

He dismissed both the boys and as soon as they were outside Carl turned to Jim and groaned, "Wow, great, I thought I'd actually get someone useful, not just Moriarty's stupid kid..." He hesitated and then asked curiously, "What did you _actually_ do to Moran. He's got some fucked up bruises. We saw them in the shower, but nobody's brave enough to ask…"

Jim was happy to leave, even if it was with Carl as his personal slave. Small victories. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain this to Sebastian without the other boy putting Carl in the hospital. Actually, that idea had merit. “Are you serious? How the fuck am I useless? Oh wait, I forgot that unless you can carry a backpack full of rocks across fifty kilos of treacherous terrain then you have no value in this place.” He kicked at a pine cone as they walked towards the barracks and Jim scowled as it skittered away. “They are hickies you virginal piece of shit. Have you seriously never fucked someone before?” What a waste of space.

"I know what a hickey is you little shit." Carl sneered back, "I'm talking about the other bruises. All over his arse. They clearly happened over the holiday..." He gave what he clearly hoped was a sideways cunning look, "And of course I've fucked - girls mostly, not stupid little bitches like you. Just because I'm not a walking slut-machine like you. And useless - how the hell are you use _ful?_ Other than for carrying my books and homework?”

Jim turned on him and wrapped his arms around Carl’s neck, getting into his personal space and trying to scare him a little. “I could show you _exactly_ how I did them, would you like that?” Jim stared at him challengingly and flirtatiously through his eyelashes. “I think I know where we can find some rope.” Jim figured Sebastian would be a lot more comfortable with Jim claiming the bruises than anything else. Walking slut machine was new. “I’m not a slut. I have sex, you have sex, neither of us are sluts. And just because you aren’t clever enough to come up with uses for me doesn’t mean that I’m useless.” He wasn’t sure why Mags had tried to turn Carl off to the idea of fucking him, or if it was all some reverse psychology thing.

Carl couldn't help a little shiver. There had been bets on about who exactly had managed to put the stripes on the Tiger, but while Jim had high odds he'd never quite believed it himself. For Carl, strength was very much tied up with force, and action heros, and hitting people, and in his eyes Jim had no strength at all. Scowling he slapped Jim's arms away, crossing them and glaring at him, "Yeah but you let people fuck you." He snapped, "And touch me again and I'll smack you in the eye, no matter what fucking diseases you've got. Your job is to do what I say, not play whatever fucking dirty games you played with Moran.”

“You are so stupid I’m amazed that you’ve survived infancy.” He appreciated the little shiver he’d earned but thought Carl and his logic was wrong. Jim was just glad that Carl didn’t seem keen on touching him. His saving grace was that Carl was both stupid and uncreative. It was — not helpful to hear people call him slut or whore, or treat him like he was lesser because of the disease he’d “earned.” Jim’s father hadn’t looked at him once all well, his eyes just skipped over Jim like he wasn’t even there. “You’re interested in my _dirty games,_ since you keep asking about them. When’s the last time you played seven minutes in heaven, Carl? I bet I could get you off in that time.” Jim didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, it felt like the words just came without conscious thought. He didn’t _want_ to have sex with Carl, but he knew eventually that’s exactly what the other boy would be taking from him and Jim needed to get as much control now as possible.

"Seven minutes in what? You are fucking mental." Carl was almost edging away from him now, guesturing furiously back to Magnussen's room, "Do you want me to go in there and tell him, tell him that you're fucking mental? That I want someone else?" It was all an empty bluff as there was no way he was telling Magnussen that he'd already failed to control a boy half his size. "You even _think_ about touching me with whatever you striped Moran with and I will fucking _behead_ you." He snarled.

“With what, you’re _sharp wit?”_ Jim snapped back, but he was pleased to get a rise out of Carl anyway. “I’d only do it if you asked me baby, I’m yours to command.” Jim sneered with a good dose of sarcasm and flirting both. “Or you could tie me up, beat me with a stick.” Jim dared him, tilting his chin up. “You try any shit like that and I will hurt you in every way I know how, and please remember who spawned me.”

Carl was now looking at him with a confusion approaching terror but just sneered, "Oh yeah, I'll remember that, I certainly will fucking beat you." Nevertheless he kept a safe distance away from Jim as they headed back to the barracks, storming in and kicking the bottom bunk where Victor was, "Alright you, fuck off. Mags said I'm getting Moriarty's kid here, just in case I need him to do any fetching and carrying for me." He might have been nominally speaking to Victor, but he was looking at Sebastian Moran.

“Fucking try it,” Jim hissed back before following him back to the bunks. He had to obey Mags in everything but he could probably get away with quite a lot of back talk to Carl as long as he got tasks done. It was amusing that Victor was going to get Jim’s bunk. Seb was going to kill him. Jim watched, bored, as Carl threw down the gauntlet.

The normal chatter in the bunks died down a bit as Carl started throwing his weight around and then died down even further as Sebastian Moran swung his legs off the bed, coming over. Carl faltered a little, eyes darting around before rallying to snap, "Magnussen said. Magnussen said he had to move. Jim's my servant now, he does what I ask him to yeah? So you can't touch him..." His voice died out as Sebastian kept moving forwards, forcing Carl to move back until he was pressed against the wall.

"I can't touch him?" Sebastian raised a fist and then gently and almost absent mindedly rested his elbow up on the wall, knocking the fist against the bricks gently above it. "Did Mags say anything about touching you?" Carl caped like a fist and Sebastian glanced behind him at Victor, "Well - go on. Move. Then move Jim's trunk under your bed. And don't fucking knock it."

Carl swallowed and then sneered, "You don't fucking scare me. Everyone knows what you let him do to you..." His eyes flickered to Sebastian's swearpants thankfully missing the brief look of confusion - and comprehending look of delight that passed over Sebastian's face before his eyes narrowed and he was suddenly pushing right up in Carl's face.

"Yeah. He did do that to me. And after I spent the whole of the first term knocking him around. Just fucking imagine what he's going to do to you? And what I'm going to do to you. They'll be sending you home in a fucking box. It will be a small box." The fist turned into a hand which slapped the side of Carl's head and then Sebastian abruptly moved away, giving Victor a slap on the arse as he walked passed carrying Jim's trunk. "Don't bother with making your bed, yeah? I've got an empty space in mine. 'M going to train.”

Jim watched, content as Sebastian bullied Carl. He enjoyed seeing the boy’s confidence back. Over the last few days they had fooled around some, Jim could get most of the way through a hand job now, which was something. His insides were mostly healed and he hoped to start working on getting through penetrative sex next. He didn’t have any plans to give anyone any blow jobs anytime soon, lying around with that gag in for days until his mouth was bloody and his jaw numb while people just came in and used him had caused more mental trauma than just about anything besides the toilet brush. Jim followed Sebastian out to the training grounds, flipping Carl off and snapping that he had to get his things from the medical area. Instead he wanted to watch Sebastian train. It had certainly been more productive lately. 

Sebastian stalked out, noticed Jim was following him and then turned on him as soon as they were out of view, wrapping arms around him and smirking, "Hehe, oh Mags is a fucking wanker but he has his moments. You are gonna be able to drive that boy absolutely mental. And I can have fun with Victor..." He pouted, "Huh, except I'm not even allowed to fuck him just a little bit." He was still grinning when he wasn't concentrating though, enjoying having people to push around, and now having an armful of Jim, "Don't you worry, I wouldn't even want to. Do they really think you caned me? Fuuuck. You should've seen them in the shower when I first got back, I mean they'd mostly healed but they were definitely still there." He calmed down a bit and moved his arms from wrapped around Jim, giving him a kiss on the top of the head. "Coming to watch me?”

Jim wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s waist and smirked up at him. They hadn’t had to be nearly so discreet and that was a real relief after last semester's sneaking around. “John told me that office is my bedroom now, something about foster kids needing their own space and privacy to develop emotionally or some shit like that. Especially after break he seems to think having a safe space is good for me. I can’t sleep there all the time but maybe we could spend afternoons and weekends in there?” Just whatever spare minutes they could find, now that Jim would probably be doing homework for two. He didn’t even share many classes with Carl. Fuck. Jim gave Sebastian a look and tugged at the other boy’s ear in irritation. “You want to have sex with Victor? What did I tell you huh? Mine.” Jim got his hands up under Sebastian’s shirt and scratched at the hicksies he left behind. “Yeah, apparently they think I did _something_ to you. Why, does the idea of them thinking about me taking a cane to your stupid arse get you all hot and bothered?” Jim sighed and nodded. “Someone needs to watch and make sure you aren’t hurting yourself too badly. And your press ups have been getting sloppy lately, your arms are tired.”

"No, fuck, of course I don't want to have sex with the stupid twat, I just want to scare him rigid. Which I am doing." Sebastian grinned, "Mmm yours. Of course yours." He kept an arm around Jim's shoulders as they headed down to the training ground, feeling his ego inflate even further as Darren saw them and then looked away and ignored them, "Why would me thinking of them thinking of me getting beaten by you turn me on, hmm?" Tugging his hoodie over his head he started to stretch, watching Jim all the while. "You know, I have no idea. It can't be the thought of you being all commanding and imperative in your pissy little way. It certainly can't have anything to do with the thought of me being all held down hard and sweaty, moaning and squirming as you lash it down, over and over. It _might_ be because of the way you tell me how brave I am for taking it afterwards, and then we have enthusiastic sex all over the bed but - no. I must just have some sort of fetish for rattan." He gave a little shiver - he was managing more and more to fit the Cyric incident into his head, into his past, but it still didn't fit comfortably, and wrenched at his mind whenever he remembered it. "Alright - weights? Spot me.”

“Well that’s fine then…” Jim grinned and picked at his fingernails while Sebastian easily rattled off his fantasy. Talking about sex, flirting, even amorous touching was okay for him, but as soon as it got dehumanizing, as soon as he felt used, it was too much. He shrugged, “I’m pretty sure I could do that. Not the sex after, but I could hit you with something if you wanted to. I feel like there’s jack shit I’m able to do for you sexually right now anyway.” He pressed against Sebastian again, trying to distract him from training a little. “You know I’m zero help with the amount you lift. Bench press me! I weigh enough, right?”

"Jack shit? You get me hard every time you bloody look at me." Sebastian grumbled fondly, happy to ignore training for being close to Jim, for being able to flirt and be playful in all the previously sacred places. "You know I wank off most nights - half the barracks knows. I'm not doing that while thinking about lettuce." He looked at Jim and then put his hands around Jim's waist, considering, before lifting him up. "Mmmm yeah - I think I could. Of course, it won't give me _much_ incentive not to drop the weight on my face…"

“Oh?” He asked as he stood on tip toes to bite at Sebastian’s ear. “You want me to sit on your face?” He hissed as Sebastian picked him up off the floor, not exactly liking the surprise and loss of control but it was okay now that he knew what was happening. “How many reps do you think you could do with me?” Jim asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Will I have to be very still?”

"Very, very still." Sebastian put him down again and lay across the bench, getting his arms into position, and glancing across to check that Darren was watching them, "Heh heh I have never bench pressed a person before so see how it goes, yeah? I'll have one hand on the small of your back and one just below your arse - don't lean your head back or you'll tip us both over.”

Jim couldn’t help a snort and a little bit of a giggle when Sebastian started to lift him up above his chest, finding the whole thing ridiculous. Quietly shaking with laughter went against the whole staying still thing but he was trying his best! Jim noticed Sebastian checking in with Darren and whispered, “Showing off for your boyfriend, hmmm? Darren! I’m getting in shape to start morning classes again, I think I can really feel a difference already.” He squeaked quietly as Sebastian pressed up a little too fast and he almost lost his balance. This was how he wanted to spend his teen years, jack-assing around, getting into a respectable amount of trouble, fooling around… he just wished it was always like this.

"What, now I can't show off for my boyfriend?" Sebastian hissed with a grin, using most of his breath to concentrate on lifting Jim up. Jim was not a bar weight, he was squirmy and warm and slippery and his arse was nice and visible right over Sebastian's head. He concentrated on that, happy to pretend (although he knew he wouldn't) that he would get to see it naked if he lifted it enough times. That Jim would sigh and moan, and let Sebastian kiss and rub it and maybe lick and slap it as well, and then... he stopped thinking quick before his cock became too visible through his sweatpants.

Darren hadn’t come over and Jim scowled. “Your boyfriend is being an arse. He hasn’t talked to me since classes started again. Not that we were super chummy, but still. Neither has my father.” Jim could see from Sebastian’s expression that he was aroused, he didn’t even need to check his trousers. “I think I’m just going to make it my new mission in life to give you as many accidental public boners as possible.”

"Wha - Darren isn't my boyfriend!" Sebastian yelped, groaning as Darren glanced at them curiously, "Ahhh fuck you. Don't you worry I can ask him to train you into the ground if you want... unh..." Jim was getting heavy, but Sebastian kept lifting, slowing down a little to give himself more staying power, concentrating on Jim's arse, "Well... chalk another one up. I thought you wanted more challenging missions in life.”

“No, but you’re his little pet. So dedicated in his classes, always so willing to please him.” Jim wasn’t sure where he was going with this, mostly he just wanted to throw Sebastian off his game and sexually frustrate him further. “No. No I want a long vacation on an island somewhere. I want you to help me with my sun screen and bring me long islands to drink. Can I sit on your back later while you do pushups?”

"Yeah so?" The words made Sebastian falter - he wasn't Darren's fucking pet, he'd tried that with the Sergeant... and suddenly his muscles screamed at him. Biting his lip he continued lifting Jim up and down silently, his arms and shoulders protesting every movement. He would have closed his eyes, but that would've rather taken him back _so willing to please him..._ Giving a growl he tipped Jim sideways, his arms catching the boy before he laid him down on the mat gently and stood up. "Yeah, maybe. Island sounds good." Leaving Jim on the mat he grabbed a couple of gloves and headed over to the hanging punch bag, glaring at it and trying to see Cyric's face in it. "Fucker." He muttered under his breath.

“Hey…” Jim came over and stood on the other side of the bag, holding it so that it could stay still. “Sometimes I like to throw rocks and see what makes a splash. I was only teasing, I didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t go all sulky on me, tell me what I said.” He couldn’t talk to Sebastian if he just walked off to hit things when Jim made him mad all the time. “I know there’s nothing going on between you and Darren.”

Sebastian growled at the bag, he obviously couldn't hit it while Jim was standing behind it, "Yeah." He said, clipped and short, "There isn't. But there was between me and the Sergeant wasn't there? You think I'm going to do all that again? With some other fucker who trains and teaches me..." The bag was looking more and more tempting mostly because he knew if he didn't hit something he would collapse in the middle. "Fucking move. I'm training.”

Jim blinked and shook his head, “That wasn’t what I meant. I don’t think that. You are someone who is eager to please. You’re eager to please me. That doesn’t mean our relationship is inherently abusive, it’s just the way you are wired. That’s all I meant by it.” Jim stepped away from the bag and started for the door. “I need to get my things from John’s. I’ll see you around.”

"I - fuck I wasn't talking about us!" Seb shouted after him, feeling suddenly empty as Jim headed for the door. He'd been so careful with Jim, trying not to freak him out, and now one little freak out of his own and Jim was just buggering off to let him deal with it. Angrily he started attacking the bag, hitting it from all angles and glaring up at Darren as he came over, eyes glazed a little with tears. "Shut up, just fucking shut up alright? Not one word.”

Darren watched him smacking the hell out of the punch bag for a bit and then shrugged, "Why would I say anything. You're fucking up enough on your own."

Sebastian glared at him, face red with anger an threatening tears and then muttered a 'shit' and flung himself at the door, hurrying out and running after Jim, not really caring who saw. "Jim - fuck Jim. Stop!" He gave a gasp for breath, catching up with the boy just outside the medical room. "I - fuck - I just... like when you couldn't breath. Felt like that - but - like obviously less because you went through more and I'm a bit just - ugh." He tried to sort his mind out and frowned at his feet, "Just. It just pissed me off a bit, that you'd think I'd make the same mistake like that all over again. That that was the only relationship you thought I could do. I don't fucking know. I just - I didn't mean you, yeah? You're not abusive, not to me. Fucking never.”

Jim heard the door bang open and stopped immediately when he heard Sebastian calling after him. It was a surprise, he thought that it was settled, he’d thought he’d reassured the other boy of his opinion but he’d missed something. He was just really tired of Sebastian insisting that he had less trauma than Jim, that he was policing his reactions, because he was measuring it all by how Jim handled it. “Hey now…” Jim started when Sebastian settled a little. He stepped forward and held Sebastian tight, squeezing as hard as he could and then slowly releasing, repeating and hoping that would help distract Sebastian from his panic. He’d been reading some of John’s books after his first panic attack and was now trying to get Sebastian more aware of his own body. “I was only teasing love. I’m sorry that it made you feel shit. I don’t really think that about you. I wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

Sebastian wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Jim to hug him hadn't been one of them, but it certainly calmed him down and he rested his head on the top of Jim's, hugging him back. "Yeah. S'okay." He managed a grin, glad to have some reassurance at least, "Heh... you're a good little weight to bench press. Should do it again some time. Now - you need any help moving your stuff? I could call Victor to carry it…"

The therapy hug as Jim was thinking of it seemed to work, much to his surprise. And then Sebastian was back to teasing, it left Jim feeling relieved. “Are you saying I’m heavy? Maybe I’ll start eating three times a day, where would you be then?” Jim smiled reassuringly and shook his head. “It’s not that much stuff mate. If you’d like I can come back and meet you in the gym after I’ve moved? You can try pushups with me on your back this time.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jim spent the next few days dodging Carl’s steps. following along with Carl’s book bag over his shoulder. The first time he’d “dropped” it and everything had fallen out Carl had given him a hard slap and Jim decided he didn’t need it to get back to Mags that he was being disobedient so he didn’t try little pranks like that. People couldn’t seem to quite make out what was going on, didn’t know how to react to Jim the pack mule but eventually they caught on and started the teasing up again — requests for homework and blow jobs and chore duty since he was being so _accommodating_ to Carl. It wasn’t as bad as at the end of Christmas break so he let it be and tried not to get into too many fights. He was staying up at all hours of the night, hunched under a blanket with a torch and carefully and meticulously doing Carl’s homework as well as his own. Jim yawned heavily, stepping into John’s private quarters. He needed to call Mycroft and update him on his situation. The man sent him a burner phone that John kept locked in a drawer. He pulled it out and held down the one for speed dial and the other line rang.

Mycroft picked up the phone almost instantly, he'd been waiting for an update for a while now, but had resisted the urge to ask John for one. "Moriarty - how are things going out there? I haven't heard from you for a while." It was meant to sound admonishing, but instead it came out rather hopeful, as he rather was hoping that no news had been good news and that Jim had now called to deliver information rather than because he was in trouble.

“Uh… yeah. An update.” Jim sat down in John’s desk chair and swiveled around absentmindedly while he talked on the phone, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Well… I got back and he wasn’t happy, obviously. I gave him good information about Sebastian — Cyric and the Sergeant hadn’t told him Sebastian was in the house at all. I told Mags what the sergeant almost did to Sebastian, Mags blew a gasket. He told me to ask Moran if he’d told his father, a 'by any means necessary' kind of thing. In return he _offered_ to put either the serge or Cyric in the hospital. I talked to Sebastian and convinced him to tell his father about what happened and then told Magnussen that he had already tattled. Cyric’s in the hospital and now Mags has got me playing indentured servant to this kid called Carl Powers. It’s loads of fun but he doesn’t hit me too much, so I’m not complaining.”

"Moran knows." Mycroft sounded a little irritated that Jim had done so much off his own back, but it was certainly not a bad sequence of events to know about. "That's... well I suppose that's rather useful. Certainly the fewer supporters CAM has in government the better... Carl Powers. Hmmm. Powers is a name I know. Good, as long as he's not seriously injuring you, that works out well."

Jim could hear that Mycroft was less than pleased but he had done okay so Jim thought it was fine. “And if it escalates? What should I do? Right now I’m a bit of a pariah. Somehow everyone knows about the Hep B — he’s not super keen to touch the leper, but that could change. If he does start hurting me badly what should I do about it?”

Mycroft drew back from the phone a little and gave it a disgusted look before answering with exaggerated care, "If you _really_ can't handle it, _do_ please call me and I'll send in the SAS to deal with an irritating school-mate. However, before you do that, try using the resources at your own disposal - get John to give him detention, tell Sebastian to hit him or something. I'm sure you'll find a way.”

“Okay. I just wanted clarification. I didn’t want to do anything outside of your orders.” Jim said, a little snidely. It was good to know that Mycroft was at least planning to keep his word and protect Jim if he absolutely needed him to. Jim planned to take care of everything himself though. “Well if that’s everything then I’ll be on my way.”

"Everything for now." Mycroft said crisply, and then, before hanging up added, "What's the name of the Sergeant's replacement again? And could you keep an eye out to check if he gets recruited by Magnussen. Try to stop if it you can, but don't put yourself in any danger or compromise yourself, he's a grown man and I'm sure he can decide for himself. I just need to know where he is.”

Jim nodded and tilted his head to the side. "Lestrade . Greg I think. He's good mates with John, I don't think he's going to be a problem but I'll keep an eye on him all the same." Jim always felt tired after these conversations, he just despised having to talk to Mycroft, especially when he was less than pleased. "Wonderful, I'll call you if anything else comes up."

"Please do." And with that Mycroft hung up, looking rather doubtfully at the phone. He didn't trust Jim, obviously, he didn't trust anyone, but it also perturbed him that he couldn't find an obvious mould to fit Jim in, no signs for how to predict his future behaviour. Sighing, he pulled open his laptop and searched for any files on Greg Lestrade - raising an eyebrow when he found them. "Oh my.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jim continued his relentlessly irritating schedule of waiting on Carl’s every need. Anytime he fucked up Carl was not afraid to pull the Mags card, threatening him and swearing he was going to tell, so Jim just nodded and tried to do better. Right now he was sitting on Sebastian’s lap in the bunks, trying to get Carl’s history homework done and asking Seb questions as they went. Moriarty or Magnussen or whoever had effectively had Jim skip a year or two when they put him with the sixteen to seventeen year old boys when he was fifteen, his own classes were a trial and adding Carls to them as well was actually difficult for him to manage. He didn’t sleep much these days and every spare minute he wasn’t in classes or with Sebastian had him bent over notes and assignments. He’d had to start morning classes again so he didn’t even have that block free to work or sleep. “Do you know what this answer is?” Jim asked, indicating a worksheet to Sebastian. The worst part was that no technology was allowed at the school, Jim had to forge Carl’s handwriting and look up every question out of books.

Although Sebastian knew that Jim working for Powers had nothing to do with him it was hard for him to totally reject the idea that this was some new form of torture aimed to hurt him. Watching Jim working himself into the ground for a completely tampon like Carl was hard enough, watching him get slapped and kicked was even harder. He'd banged a few heads together, but he suspected it was still going on where he couldn't see it, and Lestrade was so useless Sebastian didn't think it was worth telling him. Still, on the plus side, they could spend time together without anyone caring, no more having to hide in secret moments. He yawned as Jim held up a paper in front of him and squinted at it. "I wrote 59.6 I think. 59.6 people... wait that can't be right. Who'se the .6?" He shook his head and grumbled, "I don't know why you're fucking bothering with the handwriting. Everybody knows it's you doing it. Teachers and everyone. Even Mags..." He scowled as he saw Carl enter the dorms, dropping his bags and coming over, "Please can I bounce his head off the wall? Just a few times. I'll leave his retina's mostly attached…”

“Don’t bother with him,” Jim said easily. “He’s got no imagination, although I suppose I should be grateful that he doesn’t.” Jim leaned his back against Sebastian’s chest. “It’s good practice for when I steal his checkbook and take all his money.” Jim grinned and tipped his head back to kiss at the skin around Sebastian’s jaw, wanting a few moments to break and regroup from the homework.

"He hurts you." Sebastian muttered, letting himself relax as Jim kissed under his jaw, still looking unhappy, "Just because he's stopped doing it where I can see it - doesn't mean I don't know it's happening. I mean is there any reason you have to do all his work? Can't you just..." picking up a pencil he scribbled random numbers into the exercise, finishing with a spiky scrawled 'I am a wanker - Powers' at the bottom of the sheet. "There. Just hand it in like that. What'll he do?”

Jim sighed, feeling exhausted having to explain this to Sebastian when he had all the same doubts and thoughts himself. “You’re sweet.” He said, still kissing at Sebastian’s jaw and throat. He’d found one of the best ways to calm Sebastian down if he was angry was through physical affection. “Tried that, he smacked me silly and then threatened to go to Mags. Shit, Seb…” Jim hissed, taking the pencil back and erasing the scribbles and the words. “You know he could tell me I’m not allowed to see you? He will if he thinks I’m not getting his shit done. Or he’ll go to Mags and I don’t really want to know what he does to people that disappoint him more than once.” Jim wiggled around in Sebastian’s lap for a second, trying to get comfortable.

"He smacked you silly..." Sebastian felt a growl building up inside him, squirming as Jim's bum wriggled down against his crotch, "Oh you little fucker... what's that... fifteen?" He'd taken Jim's promise to give him unexpected boner's to heart, and was keeping a running total. He scowled as Carl game over, sneering at them both and flicking the side of Jim's arm. "Hey... have you even started my work? I don't mind you snuggling up with your boyfriend, but get my shit done first, alright?" He took a step back as Sebastian growled and gave Jim a warning glance, "And call your fucking dog off or I'll get it neutered.”

“It was fine. He just hit me the once. Had me seeing stars though. It was okay, I had to test him.” Jim quieted down as Carl came around, waving the sheet in his face. “It’s right here, I’m almost done. I know the drill, you don’t need to talk down to me.” He leaned back against Sebastian and gave his arm a little pinch, “Behave. That doesn’t help my situation you know. I’ve got a good system going here. Now help me with these problems.”

Carl watched, slightly amazed as Sebastian stopped growling and gave a little laugh, "Oh my god - it looks like you've already done the job yourself. Yeah, you have got a good system going, and don't you fucking forget it." His hand slapped hard around the side of Jim's face, as Sebastian's arms held him protectively. "Look at you both. Moran, you used to be the prize fucking student, Sergeant's little pet, and now you're just the fuckboy for Moriarty's brat, and you..." He slapped Jim again, "You're pretty smart at least, see he's learnt to do what I tell him - ung-"

The noise was caused by Sebastian rising all at once, grabbing him by the throat, and slamming him into the nearest wall, glaring down at him dangerously, his spare fist already raised as he hissed, "Want to say that again, Powers?”

Jim stood, setting down his books and papers carefully before making his way over to Sebastian and Carl while the other boys gathered around them, some urging them to fight, others just watching. “He’s not neutered Powers, he’s on a leash. He’s still a prize student, or did he not just beat your arse in every category during physical yesterday morning? He’s not my fuckboy. You’re going to apologize or I’m afraid I can’t make him let you go.”

Carl scrambled against the wall, but despite Sebastian's fist choaking him he managed to spit out, "Oh no. I am not going to apologise. You are going to make him let the fuck go of me, or you'll spend all night awake cleaning my stuff and getting a smack in the face every fucking _hour_ understood? And at the end of it - you'll either be sucking my _dick_ or you'll be answering to Magnussen - fuck!" Sebastian's fist whipped around, pulling the punch just as he reached Carl's gut, but still hitting him hard enough to whoosh the air out of his body and leave him hanging limply. He couldn't do much more though as Carl raised his head back up and spat, "Ohhhh Moran, your _boyfriend_ is going to fucking pay for that one.”

“Seb, let him go. I think he’s had enough now.” Jim tried to play this off like it was his decision and he was still in control but that was not how it fucking felt. He was not worried about cleaning or getting hit but the threat about Magnussen or having to suck Carl off hit home. He could have groaned when Sebastian hit Carl, frustrated that nothing seemed to go his way. “I’m very scared.” Jim bit out sarcastically.

Carl and Sebastian were both practically ignoring him now, both glaring at each other. Carl gave a little smirk, panting up maliciously, "You think I wouldn't?" He murmured, "You think I wouldn't try and find out what you saw in him? Feel him up? Sure I'm not about to stick my cock up his arse, but I'm sure I'll find something else for him to bounce on. You were his first 'job' - weren't you? His first little whore job - you can tell me how he'll sound when I make him do it." Sebastian stared at him, feeling a buzzing in his ears as he stepped away, letting Carl go and looking at Jim desperately. He wanted to hurt Carl, screamingly badly, but he wasn't about to land Jim in trouble without the boy's permission.

Jim felt his lungs practically freeze up in his chest and his limbs felt numb. Carl had never threatened him like this, had never indicated that he wanted Jim that way, or at least would hurt him like that. He just wanted to go back in Sebastian’s lap and finish the homework while part of him wanted to hit Carl, fucking throttle him until he couldn’t breathe. He shook his head subtly at Sebastian before nodding to Carl. “No hard feelings, yeah? Everything’s squared.” It wasn’t fucking squared, nothing had actually happened. “You’ve made your point Carl.”

"Yeah, everything's squared..." Sebastian sighed and backed off, the boys around them started to disperse, and then Carl swung, hard and fast, punching at the middle of Jim's face and then kicking him over as he fell to sprawl on his front. His boot landed on Jim's arse, not stamping down, but certainly preventing any movement, smirking as he saw blood on Jim's face. "Moran? You fucked up yourself and then you fucked up looking after him. Mags's orders - and he's mine now." He rubbed his boot over Jim's arse to prove his point. "You hit me again, he'll be limping for days, understood? You take it out on me in physical and you'll fucking _hear_ him crying. You don't rule this fucking barracks and from now on you don't touch me, and you don't touch him.”

Jim yelped as a fist crashed into his face out of nowhere and he ended up sprawled on the floor. It severely pissed him off that he was being pressed down onto the ground by Carl’s foot and that they were talking over him, not including him in the conversation at all. He was just a fucking thing to be fought over. Jim glanced at Carl in surprise and resignation as he dictated that Jim wasn’t to see Sebastian anymore. It was demoralizing because time with Sebastian was about all he had to look forward to these days. This shit had to stop, Carl couldn’t be allowed to hurt him like he was threatening to. If it got any worse Jim would have to do something about it, probably tell Mycroft, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing. Carl let him up and Jim stood, quickly wiping the blood away from his nose and smiling. “Sure Carl. Are you okay? Do you need some water or anything?” Jim was determined to make this right, to worm his way into Carl’s good books and then destroy him like that.

Carl stared at him as he asked, then shook his head, "No. Not from fucking you anyway. Just get my homework done. And keep away from Moran..." He smirked, shaking his head as Sebastian stormed off and looking over the blood running over Jim's face, "Oh yeah, he's always acted like the biggest man in fucking class. Guess that's me now. It's certainly not him. Now finish my homework." Rubbing his neck he got back into bed.

Jim grabbed a towel as soon as Carl climbed up to his bunk, settling back down with the papers, trying to focus and get the work done so that he could start on his own. It was late already. Jim pressed the flannel against his face, trying to stem the flow of blood from his nose and keep any of it from dripping on Carl’s homework. A few hours later, long after the barracks had gone dark Jim, put Carl’s homework away, completed, and cleaned up his face before crawling up into the boy’s bunk carefully. He settled next to him and checked to make sure he was still asleep and then reached down under the blankets to fondle at his cock through his bottoms, waiting until he responded and got hard.

Carl moaned a little in his sleep, twisting as into the handjob and then twitching as he woke, his eyes widening in surprised to find Jim was there holding his cock. Giving a yelp he pushed out at Jim, pushing him right out of the bed and then hissing at him, "What the fuck are you fucking doing you perverted little shit!”

Jim just gasped as he fell out of the bed, hanging in that terrible moment of free fall for what felt like forever before he crashed onto the hard floor, biting his lip hard to hold back a moan of pain. That fucking _hurt._ he’d landed on his elbow and it shocked and stung. He stood though, as soon as he was able, clutching the joint to his body. “You said that I had to either suck you off or go see Mags. As unpleasant as I’m sure your cock is, it’s not a difficult decision.”

"What?" Carl glared at him genuinely confused, "Yeah... what? Okay. You really are a little fucking whore, aren't you? Maybe I will ask you to suck me off, but if for any reason I do want your disease little gay mouth sucking my dick I'll fucking ask for it, you don't bloody crawl into my bed and grab my dick. How do I know you're not about to cut it off?”

“Because I wouldn’t fucking bother getting you hard if I was about to cut it off.” Jim hissed back. “I never hurt Sebastian when he was in your position, I’m not about to start with you, you stupid cunt.” Jim hated being called a whore. “And my mouth is not diseased, it’s my blood. And as long as you got all your shots you’ll be fine, you moron.” Jim was tired of being treated like he was dirty or contagious just because of what he’d contracted while working for Mags. “You _did_ ask for it.”

"I did not ask for some little fucking poof to start jerking me off in my sleep." Carl snapped back, his voice quiet but furious, "You touch me there again and I swear to god Moriarty, I'll have your hands cut off." Grabbing the duvet he threw it over himself.

Sebastian sat up at the other end of the barracks, squinting in the darkness, trying to work out what was happening. Next to him, Victor sniffled unhappily into the sheet and Sebastian patted his head absently, "Calm down you useless cunt - I said I wouldn't fuck you and I won't. Just need to hear if he's been trying to hurt Jim because we might have to try and shove at least something painful up your arse if he does…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: None


	7. Wish I Could've Let You Break His Skull Open

Lestrade might not have been told what was going on, but he was hardly blind and stupid. He could tell when Sebastian was angry, because people started turning up with bruises. And he could tell when Jim Moriarty was overworked, because the boy practically dropped on the training field. After sending him to John twice, only to find him curled up under Power's bed the next morning Lestrade finally decided to take things into his own hands. A walking counselling session seemed the best idea, from what he remembered from his few brief counselling lessons as it would give them both something to focus on if Jim wasn't talking. And so far, despite a his gentle and often unrelated questions, Jim had not said anything. Sighing, Lestrade looked at the scenery and reflected that at least right now his charge wasn't getting physically abused. That seemed to be the best he could do.

Jim had been pouting since Carl forbade him from spending time with Sebastian. What made it worse was that he actually made sure Jim was busy all the time, that he didn’t have the energy for sneaking around. Lestrade, as usual, wasn’t really helping. He was obviously trying, he’d taken pity on Jim a couple times — sending him to John’s where Jim usually worked on homework or slept depending on what was more desperately required at the moment. His grades were dropping, not dramatically but he’d taken to earning detentions just so that he didn’t have to be around Carl for a few hours. Lestrade had called him out here while Jim was in the middle of polishing Carl’s shoes, he still had a bit of polish smeared on his cheek where he’s absentmindedly rubbing his face with his black hands. It was nice having a break but it was still irritating Jim that Lestrade didn’t seem to want to get to the point. He got hit some more and his face kept getting bruised but all in all it wasn’t too bad now that neither Sebastian or Jim were challenging him.

Lestrade looked sideways at Jim, figuring he'd had enough quiet time and giving it another go, "You know - if Carl is bullying you, you should feel you're able to report it." He tried. "You should all have to work together, you can't spend your time in the real world bullying people and getting away with it." He hesitated - reminding himself once again that these were not police cadets. They were rich boys with influential fathers and probably could spend their time bullying. "Well - I just don't want you to be miserable here." He tried hopelessly.

Jim snorted, feeling both offended and amused at Lestrade’s joke before looking at him and realizing that he was completely serious. How could he not know? “Er — I think you’re confused mate. I’m not sure how you missed the memo since Carl shouted it to the whole squad last month  _and_ you’re friends with John, but Magnussen’s made me his personal — person. So _no_ I’m not able to report it because there’s nothing to report, he’s allowed to do whatever he wants to me. Go ahead and keep nattering on about working together and all of us being equals but that’s not how it is. At all. This isn’t the real world, this is Magnussen’s world and we all just do as we’re told. Miserable or no.”

Lestrade looked down, and stuck his hands in his pockets then looked at Jim, stopping walking. "Alright. Fine. You win. It's fucked up and I can't do anything except it seems help perpetuate it." He hadn't hit anyone yet, shocked when Magnussen had implied he was allowed to, but each day it got more tempting. "Well you're not rich, you've no connections, you're stuck here and with Magnussen and you're quite possibly ill. So - what can I do? What can I do, right here, that would help you a little to get through? Detentions every evening to give you some time alone? Giving Carl extra exercises so he's too exhausted to hit you very hard? Putting Victor in solitary before he actually gets into Moran's pants? What?" It wasn't ethical, but it might be a start to Jim opening up, which would be healthier, and might also give the poor kid some relief.

Jim stared at him, floored, while he just looked at him in surprise. “No adult has ever given a fuck about me except John.” He said, sounding stubborn and suspicious. “…I guess giving me detentions would help. As long as you don’t mind me working on my homework or sleeping. I can handle Sebastian just fine, and Carl will just get meaner if he thinks you are targeting him for extra exercises. What do you want in return for your favors?” Jim just stared at Lestrade like he was some new species he didn’t understand. It didn’t make sense why he would want to help Jim. “You know eventually he’s going to target you. Magnussen. He’ll make you do something bad and blackmail you or put pressure on you until you cave, or he’ll just threaten you. Take care of yourself.”

"What do I want in return?" Lestrade raised an eyebrow, looking for a moment like he was appraising Jim, considering him, and then collapsing into a half laugh, groaning and banging his head against a tree. "I'm your _teacher._ Being interested in your wellbeing is my _job_ \- I swear if it wasn't for the maintenance payments I've have left this job fucking months ago. Very soon after I started in fact." He sobered up, sighing and shaking his head. "I don't want anything in 'return' - I'm just trying to keep all of you alive and healthy and right now the first one is proving a challenge. I'll watch out for the Big Boss, but to be honest I'm poor, unconnected, and already have a life of crime behind me. I doubt he'd want me for much.”

Jim scowled as Lestrade broke into laughter. “It’s not funny. You’re weird.” Jim could kind of see why John liked him though, they were probably the only decent people here. “I’m poor, unconnected and a minor and he’s still found a use for me — passing me around like a party favor. He hasn’t indicated to me that he wants you but you need to stay aware. Fucking leave if he tries anything. I mean it. He owns just about everyone here one way or another.”

"You're different, no history, no dependants but - thank you. I'll watch out." He wasn't at all sure about 'passed around like a party favour' - he'd heard some rumours from John that he was a bit too shocked to believe, but his inner ex-policeman knew was true, and died a little knowing he couldn't stop it.

“Get them while they are young and stupid and desperate. I see what you are saying. To be honest the fact that you are more familiar with the law than most probably makes you a less than appealing candidate.” Jim heard noise, someone heavy walking through the woods behind them and he turned around, expecting to see Sebastian but it wasn’t. It was the sergeant. Jim’s breath caught in his lungs and he went from a mild mannered, somewhat depressed kid to spitting angry in just a moment. “What the fuck are you doing here? Get the fuck away from me unless you want me to jab your eyes out with a stick, you freak.”

"Yeah... familiar from both ends..." Lestrade murmured, frowning and turning, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder as he watched the sergeant, moving to stand in front of him a little. "Simon. I'm not sure what you're doing here, I suggest you leave." He'd read the papers, and knew what the man was accused of, and stood his ground as the Sergeant stepped forwards and growled at Jim.

"Oh yeah... you got custody of the little slut did you? I'm here to talk to Magnussen - just talked to him in fact. Remember those little videos we made of you, with Cyric? Thought he might like to see those - not the originals of course, I'm keeping those in reserve. Just copies.”

“He’s not fucking happy with you, is he? You lied to him and tried to rape his colleague’s son. How does it feel to be the one fucking up for a change, hmmm?” Jim somehow managed to both pale and flush when the sergeant brought up the videos, suddenly feeling nauseous. “So what, you gave Magnussen something else to wank over, what’s it got to do with me?” Jim tried to bluff, like the videos didn’t matter, like they weren’t deeply personal. “… what would the originals be worth to you then? I’m assuming that’s why you brought them up. You want something?”

"I do want something - from Mags I want my fucking job back - but he can handle that. You're completely fucking non important. From you, I want Sebby back." He glanced at Lestrade, as if trying to work out whether Lestrade would actually intervine if he tried to hit Jim. Clearly he saw enough in Greg's eyes that he decided to stick with just threatening but he smirked at Jim and made a hand gesture. "Not that I think you know how to control Moran, you clearly fucking don't. But it's not just you on that camera. I wanted a good shot of me breaking Sebby in, and you stopped that fucking happening." Somewhere in Simon's brain he had come to the conclusion that if it hadn't been for Jim - he would have easily enjoyed a beautiful, consensual, and highly sensual night screwing Sebastian Moran.

“You are _not_ getting your job back.” Jim swore. It didn’t matter that he had virtually no power in this situation and Mags would do whatever he damn well pleased, but none of that would stop Jim burning his god damn rooms to the ground with him inside. “What should I do then? Coerce him into sucking my dick? Beat him when he tells me no? Hold him down and force him when he doesn’t want it? Because that worked out _so_ well for you, didn’t it? How does that feel, hmm? Wanting to keep your hands clean, never touching me, just to beat me until I piss blood and can’t see straight and videotape someone violating me while you wank over it, and then finding out that you really are just a rapist and a pervert. He didn’t want you. He’s not going to suddenly change his mind just because you’ve got some video tapes.”

Lestrade was looking more and more disgusted, but Simon ignored him, stepping forward again and waving a hand as if to try and bat Lestrade out the way, as the man moved further in front of Jim. "You know nothing about Sebby Moran, I never _forced_ him, he was practically begging to suck my dick -" He ignored Lestrade's snapped "He was your _student."_  And continued, "I never wanked over what Cyric did to you, that was for him not me, and he is a fuck-up. I was working on Seb for fucking _years_ \- working him up, getting him ready, and then you came in and turned his stupid head just before I got a chance to fuck him. He would've liked it, and you bloody know he would've once I'd gotten inside.”

“Yes you did. Yes you _fucking did,_ you are _so full of shit.“_ Jim pushed around Lestrade and grabbed at the sergeant’s clothes, furiously trying to get a hold of him so that he could hurt him. “It’s on the fucking videos, you _liar.”_ Jim hit him hard in the trachea with the heel of his hand and sneered in the sergeants face. “You _groomed_ him for sexual exploitation. That’s what you are saying. And you don’t even see anything wrong with it, you sick fuck. I’m glad I got you fucking fired you piece of shit. You’re not going to touch him, I will _kill_ you.”

Simon looked hugely surprised at being attacked by Jim, choking and falling back as he was punched in the throat getting a hold of himself enough to backhand Jim into the forest floor, "Oh for fucks sake he's a greedy horny little masochist born with a silver spoon up his fucking arse. He'd have loved it once I'd ridden him a few times. He came to see _me_ \- purposefully, because he fucking missed me and he fucking missed the way I treated him. And of course he does when he's suffering through this politically correct fucker with a-" his voice died out into a gurgle as Lestrade's hand lashed out suddenly, flooring him, and then diving onto him, getting the Sergeant onto the ground, hands behind his back, fully contained almost before thinking.

"You've broken more laws than you can _possibly_ be aware of." Lestrade growled, glancing to check Jim had got up and was okay, "If I was in the service - I'd have you locked up with the fucking key thrown away - I wouldn't even need a good lawyer…"

Jim just growled when the sergeant back handed him hard enough he saw stars, shaking his head to clear his vision before standing up and kicking the man in the face as Lestrade pinned him to the forrest floor. “You are obsessed with a fucking _child._ Do you not realize how deranged this makes you sound?” Jim was so angry he wanted to push Lestrade off of the sergeant just so that he could get at him but even half blind with rage he recognized that was a bad idea. Instead he pressed a booted foot to his face, pressing it into the dirt. “Now tell me how to get those videos. That’s child pornography, and it belongs to me.”

Lestrate hesitated - torn between wanting to stop Jim hurting the man while he was trapped and wanting to encourage him on. He settled for just staying on the Sergeants back, keeping him still while Jim kicked him and feeling another bit of his soul drop away. Simon scowled and glared up at Jim, "I've told your fucking organ grinder, get him to sort them out. Those video's are nothing to do with you, you're just the fucking _object_ that stars in them." He hissed as Lestrade twisted his arms up further and growled, "And don't think you know Sebastian Moran - you want to ask yourself if he's happy now you're not paying any attention to him. See if he's got someone else in his bed - and see how bored he gets when they don't fuck him either - oww!”

Jim’s vision seemed to go red when the sergeant called him an object, he let all of the impotent rage he’d had to bottle up for weeks and months burst forth and he charged at Lestrade, shouldering him out of the way, before landing on the sergeant and decking him repeatedly in the face, just wanting to hurt him as severely and quickly as possible. His other hand found a small rock and he brought it down hard across the man’s brow as he screamed in his face. “I hate you. I hate you I fucking _hate_ you.” He wasn’t really aware of what he was doing anymore, he didn’t care that the sergeant was very likely about to overpower him and hurt him very badly. He wasn’t aware of who he was hurting, it felt like hitting Cyric and Mags and Carl and the Sergeant and his father all at once. He finally had a scape goat for the rage he’d been holding back and Jim was more than happy to take it out on someone who deserved it.

"Woah - woah!" Lestrade rolled upright, recovered, and then quickly grabbed Jim, holding his arms back safely and glaring at the Sergeant who gave a groan and staggered upright.

He was clearly shaken enough not to say anything further other than a mutter of "fucking rabid dog..." before he staggered off, hand grabbing at his bleeding forehead.

Lestrade let Jim go as soon as it was safe, figuring the boy wouldn't like to be held back any longer than necessary. He tried to drag up what he was meant to say, but his councelling training was looking pretty shaky in this circumstances and all he managed was a sigh of breath and a, “Sorry. Wish I could've let you break his skull open.”

Jim pulled hard, trying to break Lestrade’s grip even as it wrenched at his shoulders. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath and Jim was panting and shaking as the anger finally died down. Lestrade let him go and Jim staggered a couple feet away, wanting distance between them. “Why didn’t you? You — you’re just talk. That’s why no one respects you here. You’ve got these lofty ideas and you’re one of the few decent people here but as long as you sit around with a thumb up your arse and you won’t do anything about it then you’re just bloody useless.” Jim rubbed at his face ruefully where the sergeant hit him, ignoring the blood from his knuckles that got smeared on his face. He liked Lestrade okay, that was why he was telling him these things. “You can’t afford to just be a spectator.”

"What am I meant to do?" Lestrade raised his eyebrows, watching Jim rubbing at his injuries and then sighing, tugging out a packet of antiseptic wipes and throwing them across. "I know you all think I'm useless and a waste of space - but has it ever occurred to you that the reason I don't throw my weight around and punch people in the face all the time is because I've already found out it doesn't work? I've looked through both sides of a prison cell and believe me, I've never seen anywhere as fucked up as this place. You say nobody respects me - yet you still see me as decent. You want me to remain decent - you think I could do that if I'd held that man down for you to beat up? Or if I stamped on Carl Power's face like I feel like doing? You think I should start hitting the boys I'm meant to be caring for? Bossing them and beating them - you want me to treat Sebastian Moran the way he clearly thinks he should be treated - the way that evil _thing_ used to treat him?" He gestured off in the direction Simon had left in. "I am just talk - and that's because talk is more fucking powerful than you will ever appreciate. Maybe the boys run rings around me, and nobody respects me and your father thinks I'm a waste of skin - but maybe you don't know that some of your classmates actually come to me now, when they're exhausted and crying. Maybe you don't know that some of them have started actually fucking getting decent grades for the first time in their lives. I can't do much about the real problems - you, Moran, Powers, because all of you need intense therapy, healing time and quite frankly regular sedation and even _then_ you're so fucking damaged it hurts. But the little problems. Those I can deal with. And if that means facing your disgust, and Sebastian's disrespect, and your father thinking I'm weak - well that's what I'll damn well face.”

Jim just slumped and sat at the foot of a tree, cleaning up his face and hands while he listening to Lestrade. He didn’t know what to say. “You’re not a waste of skin. You’re loads better than Simon. It’s good you’re helping the weak ones.” Jim shrugged, not sure what to tell him. “John’s in the same boat. You’re just damage control.” He stared at the forest floor, feeling numb and depressed, realizing the futility of everything he did. “We’re all just monkeys dancing. I’m going to be pimped out over and over again until I mess up too many times or he gets tired of me and kills me. It’s all just fucking pointless.”

Lestrade looked at him and then crouched down next to him, giving a one shouldered shrug. "You really do still see them as weak, don't you? They'll have better lives than you, more money than you, healthier relationships than you - yet you see them as weak because they can't cope in an environment that's so screwed up it warps bloody space-time." He hesitated. This was off-piste, but he'd never been trained to deal with someone like Jim, and the kind of life he knew Jim would lead was very different to anything he'd encountered. "Yeah, that's what he thinks. That's what Magnussen's counting on doing. Pimping you out, over and over, until you fuck up." Lestrade the policeman was fading, being replaced by what he could remember of Lestrade-the-part-time-arsonist. Tugging a cigarette packet out of his back pocket he offered it to Jim and then took one himself, "Don't tell the Doc. But there's two types of people in this world - those that live in houses and those that set them on fire." He hesitated and then added in a slightly strained voice, "Please don't set anything on fire.”

Jim watched Lestrade blankly, not even feeling threatened by his proximity. “He’s got videos with pornographic content and my face, all my personal information. Mags can ruin my life, any future I hope to build. All he has to do is upload them to the internet.” He took the cigarette from Lestrade, still watching him. Jim had to admit that setting this whole school on fire sounded like a marvelous idea. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go and hang myself in the showers right now.”

Lestrade flicked the lighter open, looked at it for a second, then lit both of them up and rested against the tree. "Fuck I don't know. If I were you I would. I mean, your life is hard, so fucking hard, it was hard even before Magnussen fucked it up. Now it's worse. I can't find a reason. But you have a reason. I know you have one because if you wanted to die, you'd do it. You're brave, you don't care about pain, and you're angrily impulsive. If you wanted to die, you would be dead. You're not dead. Ergo: you don't want to die. Never say coppers are stupid." He blew the smoke up at the trees. "Your personal information means fucking nothing. You can change your name. Deed poll. Change it to whatever you want. Make up a story - make up a mother, a father, maybe even a sister. You're just a student living in a student house with a big blond friend, aren't you? What's your employer going to say? 'I was watching hardcore gay porn the other night and there was an underage model who looked _just_ like you?' Dye your hair, buy glasses, I doubt anyone who's sick enough to watch that shit would've been looking at your face. Magnussen has no power over you other than what he can wield on someone elses fist. And given you are completely unafraid of pain that's no power at all.”

“Don’t want to die.” Jim muttered petulantly as Lestrade lit his cigarette for him. “Can’t do that to Sebastian. He wouldn’t cope well.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, luxuriating in the nicotine and smoke that filled his lungs then blowing it out his nose. “Dunno if I have resources like that. Magnussen certainly has the resources to find me if I run. I can’t even hurt myself because he’d just make it so much worse. Carl isn’t so bad. He doesn’t even touch me — you know, sexually. If he wanted he could tie me to the bed and tell everyone on campus they could have a go and there’s fuck all I can do unless I go against Magnussen. Tried that earlier this semester, didn’t work out so well for me.” He paused for a smoke and then spoke again, his voice ruff. “I wish my mother had just gotten that abortion she wanted. This would be a whole lot easier.” Jim stood and tossed his cigarette as it had burn down to the filter. “I suppose I’d better get back and have a think on whether I’m feeling up to a murder suicide just yet or not. Thanks for the cigarette. You really are decent.”

"Nah, don't be stupid. She wouldn't have wanted that and you don't want it either. And poor old Seb would be right out." He pinched out his cigarette and then picked up Jim's one conscientiously, tucking them into his pocket. "I'm crap at giving you advice for this. I might have broken the odd law, but I was never one of the big boys, living outside it. I'm not telling you to run, I'm just saying - remember you could. Remember there are other ways out that don't end hanging from a rope. Carl might not be as bad as you can imagine but he's pretty damn bad. You might want to think about who it's more important for Magnussen to keep: you or Carl." Standing up he gave Jim a little grin. "No problem, any way I can give you cancer I'm sure. Detentions every evening for you, young Moriarty, and don't look in my desk for a cigarette while you're there. And _definitely_ don't take advantage if Sebastian Moran walks in. And I'm done.”

Jim smirked and shook his head, amused at how naive this man was. “You didn’t know her.” She had wanted to, or at least had seriously considered terminating her pregnancy but she hadn’t. Sometimes when they fought she’d scream it at him and then later she’d cry and tell him she hadn’t meant it. He listened to Lestrade though, determined to give the situation more thought even though he felt exhausted and pretty defeated. They walked back together and Jim decided, fuck it, he didn’t care about Carl. Instead he went to find Sebastian who was still asleep — Lestrade had pulled him out of bed early before the rest of the cadets woke up. Jim crawled up into his bunk and worked his way under the blankets, cuddling up to Sebastian’s side. He needed something — hope, or a reminder of why he was doing this at least, or he wasn’t going to be able to face up to Mags later. Jim knew he’d have to go see him soon to talk about the sergeant and the tapes.

Sebastian mumbled as Jim nuzzled in next to him, muttering, "Fucking - I told you no you silly little - Jim?" His eyes opened and his arms wrapped around Jim tight, pulling him in and mumbled sleepily, "Jim, my Jim…"

He smiled softly since Sebastian’s eyes were closed and he probably wouldn’t ever remember this later he was still half asleep. “Who did you think was crawling in your bed, hmmm? Do I need to cut a bitch?” He teased lightly, coming back to life a little bit. For just these seconds everything didn’t feel so dire. Jim decided not to tell Sebastian about seeing the sergeant or the tapes. He didn’t normally like being held anymore but he had missed Sebastian and was determined to just enjoy this. “Missed you, you fucker.”

"Nah s'alright, I'll cut him." Seb mumbled happily, snuggling closer to Jim's body, sniffing it and giving a growl as he felt the bruise on Jim's face. He made an indistinct noise at the torn knuckles as he found one hand, licking and kissing them and then just holding him as close as he could, hearing Jim's heartbeat. "Yeah, missed you too, s'good to have you back in here. Let me know yeah, if you want anything? Me to hit anyone? Carl, especially. Or... anything." He kissed gently at Jim's jaw, so relieved to have him back and all in one piece.

“I love you,” Jim whispered so quietly he was half certain that Sebastian wouldn’t hear him, even so close. He’d known of course for a while now, but it had just been so impossible for him to say the words. Jim wasn’t even sure that he could say them again, it just felt right in the moment, coming down from the anger he’d felt - not only on his behalf but for Sebastian as well - feeling numb and wanting to die but putting it off because he didn’t want to leave Sebastian alone. “You’re the only reason I haven’t fucking killed myself already. Don’t need you to hit anybody just don’t go anywhere.” Sebastian seemed to be doing this will-they-won’t-they thing with Victor and as much as it would hurt Jim almost wished they would because then he’d know it was okay — that Sebastian was moving on and wouldn’t feel devastated if Jim had to end things. If he did kill himself Jim was at least going to make a serious bid for killing Magnussen first. He ran a hand over Sebastian’s hair from his forehead to the nape of his neck.

The words almost made his heart stop - and then race forward. He didn't want to cheapen them, or the effort Jim had taken, by coming out with something random of his own, so he just stayed silent, arms wrapped around Jim's body, pressing him close and stroking his back. "I'm not going anywhere." He murmured gently, after a moment, "Yours, remember? Why the fuck would I want anyone else?" Victor had been getting... close. Possibly as a defence against further violence, or maybe just because they were just lonely and horny together. But any daliances he'd imagined with Victor had vanished now - he just wanted Jim; soft, strange, crazy, spiky little Jim.

Jim slowly started kissing Sebastian’s skin, anywhere he could find. He wasn’t in the mood but he wanted to be. “I want to feel something. Other than shit I mean.” Just for a few minutes he didn’t want to feel alone. “How quiet can you be?” Jim whispered, almost managing a grin in the dark and curling up against Sebastian, pressing a thigh between the boy’s legs.

"I-I f-fuck..." Sebastian bit his lip hard and gave a little breathy noise, smiling back at Jim in the darkness, "I can be as quiet as you want - go on. You deserve it. Take what you want, whatever the fuck you want, blow your mind out with it. I c'n keep my hands attached to the top if that helps." He didn't want to scare Jim off, or make him feel out of control and honestly, after having to control himself every day when Jim walked passed bowed and exhausted he was rather looking forward to having someone else take over on his body. He kissed at the top of Jim's head, squeezing his thigh between the hard muscles of his own legs. "Condom under the pillow…”

Jim fumbled around in the dark, one hand trying to find the condom under the pillow and the other searching out Sebastian’s cock. Right now Jim just wanted a fuck, he wanted to feel alive for as long as it lasted. The cuddling from earlier and this seemed separate somehow. “I want to ride you. Never done that before. Put your hands up there — no touching unless I tell you. And fuck’s sake stay quiet I’m going to be really sore at you if you wake everyone else up and they see us.” There was something dangerous about this, fucking while everyone else around them was asleep — needing to stay quiet. They hadn’t had sex since before spring break, Jim hadn’t even been able to finish Sebastian’s hand job last time but he wanted this and he was just going to have to get his fucked up brain on board. He started stroking Sebastian the way he knew he liked it, waiting until he was fully hard before slipping the condom on. Tucked between the mattress and the bunk frame was lube, Jim knew because Seb jerked off in bed all the fucking time. With shaking hands Jim poured a generous helping onto his own fingers before he cautiously inserted one inside himself. Jim hadn’t tried any kind of penetration in weeks, he wanted to make sure he took his time if that’s what it needed.

Sebastian's cock jumped up eagerly as Jim made suggestions and hissed orders at him. Reaching up he grabbed at the bars of the top of the bunkbed, smirking at the thought that while most of the boys would hopefully sleep through this, there was no way Victor couldn't notice, given he was directly beneath. "I'll keep quiet." He whispered, biting his lip as Jim slid the condom over him, his legs twitching as they parted slightly, looking up at Jim hungrily but also worshipfully. Jim had come to visit him, and was cuddling him and sleeping with him. After the week of forced separation it seemed too good to be true.

He tried to keep his breathing regulated, tried to keep calm as he fingered himself, testing for the first time since he’d healed up. Jim swallowed painfully while his cock tried to decide if it was going to be interested or not. He tried all of the things that Sebastian usually did when he used his fingers, massaging his prostate until he was stretched and finally hard. “Okay… shhhh…” Jim settled overtop of Sebastian, pressing his clean fingers against the other boy’s mouth to keep him quiet as he slowly lowered onto the boy’s cock. It scared him but it felt good — Sebastian was familiar to him and he was safe. Jim had done this before after that disastrous first time with Seb in the woods, he’d learned to like sex. He could learn to like it again. Jim went painfully slowly until he bottomed out, shaking slightly, tremors crawling up and down his limbs. He was on top with his legs spread to either side of Sebastian’s hips, chest pressed against the other boys and Jim distracted himself by kissing Sebastian eagerly.

Sebastian waited, his breath catching and hitching, his legs twitching, but overall staying still, waiting to see if Jim would be ready, if the evening would end with Jim trembling back down again and shaking his head. Instead, he felt the tight heat surround his cock and bit his lip almost right through to keep quiet, moaning faintly as he tasted blood and Jim slid right down, surrounding him completely. His hands were fisted tight against the bars, his whole body heaving with every breath, squirming a little as Jim covered him in kisses and murmuring "Wow - oh Jim -" when he trusted himself to speak.

“Do I feel any different?” Jim asked quietly, betraying a small part of his self consciousness and conviction that he was damaged and fucked up and wouldn’t feel as good anymore now that Sebastian wasn’t the only person who had been inside him. He soothed Sebastian’s bloody lip with his fingertips, noting the tension in the other boy’s body as he tried to hold himself still.

"W-what?" Sebastian hadn't even thought of that. Sure, it felt a little odd, he could feel a little ridge of scar-tissue inside the rim, and Jim seemed a bit more uncertain, a bit more cautious. But he'd hardly spent his whole life in Jim beforehand, and the differences were very minor compared to the overwhelming fact that Jim was ontop of him and about to ride him. "You f-feel fucking amazing - like the only thing I want in my - nnn - p-please... fuck me..." he tried to give what he hoped was a desperate and eager face, whining gently and calming a little as Jim's fingers drifted over his lip, "Y-you know how I feel about you, god Jim, you're my everything. Even though I started with quite a pile anyway. Want you…”

Something eased a little, Jim felt a tiny bit more assured because of Sebastian’s words. He could tell that the boy meant them and the knowledge gave him confidence at least that Sebastian still wanted him, even if everything else about this was still confusing and a little overwhelming. “Hush…” Jim shushed the boy underneath him, listening for any noise that indicated the other boys were waking. He started rocking gently, focusing all of his attention on the movements, learning how to do this so it felt good for him, moving up and down Sebastian’s cock while he spread his hands across the other boy’s chest and tilted his head back.

Sebastian wanted nothing more than to hurl himself upright, hug Jim tight and start fucking him till they both saw stars - but having to hold back from doing that was almost better still. His fists tightened around the bed posts, looking up and panting desperately as Jim gently hushed him, and Jim's fingers slid over his body. This wasn't about him - this was all about Jim's pleasure, watching him find it, watching him enjoy it, watching him learn to both cope with and get pleasure out of being filled again. Sebastian didn't even move his hips, gluing himself down to the bed while his cock stayed hard and eager, the tight heat around it pressing against the condom.

“You — you’re the only one. The only one who gets this. All of it.” Jim fucking hated that he couldn’t even be faithful to Sebastian, that any number of men Sebastian hated could have Jim when he couldn’t. He wanted this feeling, all the time. Like he belonged and like someone wanted him. “I’m not a thing. Not a thing.” Jim whispered defiantly as he remembered what the sergeant said earlier about the video. Jim was a person, one that mattered a lot to someone. He wasn’t an object. “You can move. Touch me.” Jim finally whispered as he grew more confident in what they were doing. He was still shaking but Jim was hard and wanted this — it was good enough for right now.

Sebastian hesitated, trying to find a happy medium between clinging hard onto the bed post and engulfing Jim completely. Unpealing one hand, he reached up, trembling, to cup the side of Jim's face. He didn't want to hold Jim's hips, or arse, wonderful thought they were. This was a strangely close and intimate moment which had fought it's way into the rather straightforward life of Sebastian Moran and he wanted to treat it properly. "Give me what you need to - what you can - y-you know that's fine for me." He whispered, giving a crooked grin as Jim gently started to rock back and forth. "I know what I mean to you, s'enough." His hands stroked Jim's face, down over his neck, curling around the back of his hairline and Sebastian's hips jerked tentitavely upwards.

Jim just stared at Sebastian in the dark, overwhelmed with the hot possessive feeling that overwhelmed him like an echo of the rage he’d felt earlier when the Sergeant spoke like he owned Sebastian. He didn’t. Sebastian was Jim’s because they gave themselves to each other. It wasn’t a one sided obsessive relationship where one person took and took and took. The sergeant would never understand this, or the lengths that either of them would go to to protect the other. Jim reached up to hold Sebastian’s hand against the back of his neck as he moved with more confidence. When Sebastian jerked against him, meeting him, Jim’s breath caught and he had to bite down on a moan that wanted to escape. “Good. That’s good.” He whispered breathlessly.

Sebastian gave a pleased and relieved smile - enjoying the praise as well as the fact that Jim was enjoying this, loving it, and a fierce pride and delight rose up in him. Jim had talked of suicide - that could never happen, and Sebastian was suddenly determined that he himself would be destroyed and buried before he allowed Jim to even think of leaving this earth. His hips continued to gently roll upwards, rather amazed at his own self control, hand pressing into the hot curve of Jim's neck with Jim holding it tight.

He upped the tempo, pressing his free hand against his own mouth to smother the sounds that escaped. “Ah… touch my cock. I love it when you do it.” Sebastian obliged and they moved together, quietly rocking the bunk, smothering each other’s noises and Jim gasped Sebastian’s name as he thrust down hard onto him a final time before coming all over the other boy’s hand and stomach. He tightened around him, sighing in relief as he came down from his orgasm. “Fuck I missed you.”

Sebastian obliged, moving his other hand to stroke and pay attention to Jim's cock, figuring the poor thing probably hadn't had much loving at all. He moaned as he felt Jim tensed and tremble around him, cumming hard on the tail of Jim's orgasm, and missing the exact words but certainly getting the idea. This time, he made sure not to say anything stupid, or to hug and smother Jim, just lay there, sweating and panting, a bloody smudge on his lip, spread out over the bed under Jim.

Jim laid down on top of Sebastian after pulling himself away from Sebastian’s softening cock. He was okay for a few moments but then he became away of the cum cooling and drying on his skin. That was too much. “I have to shower.” He was still shaking, even though he’d gotten through it and he’d enjoyed himself Jim’s body was still expecting pain, waiting for it. He remembered to bend down and kiss Sebastian’s mouth before he got up and started climbing down the ladder, still nude. “Go back to sleep. I have a meeting anyway.”

Sebastian tried a little, "Want me to come to..." but let him go, giving him one last little kiss. As the shower ran he felt a kick from the bunk below and quickly swung his head and shoulders over it to push a fist into Victor's face below, "And you, my friend, were asleep through all that and didn't hear a thing, alright?”

Jim washed meticulously, running the water hot and using more soap than he strictly needed to. He took special care to wash the cuts on his knuckles and his face just in case they had gotten infected or something of that nature. When he felt clean again and stopped shaking Jim dressed in his uniform and walked out of the barracks. By now many of the other cadets were stirring and awake, Jim brushed past Carl who was complaining that Jim had only half shined his boots. Instead of listening to Carl bitch for the next hour and sitting around getting smacked Jim went to see Magnussen about those tapes.

"Hey - hey!" Carl shouted after him as he left, glowering and determined to make Jim pay for that on the next expedition they had coming up.

Magnussen was in his office, he didn't look surprised to see Jim walk in and raised an eyebrow at him, "I think I can guess why you're here. Don't worry, that man is not getting his job back, and the 'evidence' he has will not be shown anywhere. Do you have any information on Powers?”

“What, serge didn’t come tattling on me to daddy for beating him up?” Jim grinned and shook his head. “I want those videos. Every copy. What can I do for you to make that happen?” He came closer to Magnussen’s desk, heart pounding hard. “Nothing you haven’t guessed already. He’s a twat, he enjoys not doing any homework and he likes bossing me around and hitting me. Powers hasn’t mentioned any kind of stupid plans to me or any information on his family.”

"As long as he's just an idiot that's fine." Magnussen looked at Jim through pale eyes. "They aren't 'videos' technology has moved on rather a lot since you were living with your mother. I do have the originals and I will work towards getting the rest. If you want them... you will have to keep working here. So far you have done some good work but not achieved all that much. Hmm?" He patted the side of Jim's face and then looked at him, "Your hair is wet. You've had a shower." He looked over Jim and raised an eyebrow, "I see you've decided you've healed already. Good. Do not sleep with Powers - brush him off if you have to. He is not that important to risk damaging you over.”

Jim narrowed his eyes, catching Magnussen’s lie. “The sergeant told me that he has the originals and he only gave you copies. One of you is lying to me.” If felt like his heart squeezed in his chest for a moment before Jim sank down to his knees in front of Magnussen, planing his hands low down the man’s thighs while he petted the bruised side of Jim’s face. “I’m healed up pretty well. Well enough that I can do more for you.” He desperately wanted those tapes and wasn’t unwilling to use his body if it meant he could get his hands on them. “Did you watch it? The footage? What did you think?”

"Jim, Jim..." Magnussen cooed, patting at his head and face, and stroking him gently as the boy fell to his knees, letting Jim touch his trousers and shaking his head. "The sergeant believes that the originals are in his small pathetic bedroom locked in a safe. They no longer are." He lifted Jim's chin looking down at him and shaking his head still, "You will do more for me. I know it. Who did you sleep with and why? Hmm? Do I have to guess a name - because I think I will guess it right. Are you worried about losing him to that silly boy who used to hang around with Powers?”

He still didn’t think that he really believed that but Jim didn’t have many options. Either Mags was telling the truth or he was lying and he still had no way to get at the sergeant when he was all the way in London. This seemed like his best bet. Magnussen didn’t push him away, even seemed pleased, so Jim stroked the man’s thighs a few times. He didn’t want to get slapped for being too presumptuous. Jim wasn’t sure if it was worth lying about but telling Magnussen that he’d been with Sebastian outright seemed stupid. “I was out with Lestrade this morning.” He said instead. Not a lie, but misleading, except if Magnussen ever fell for something so simple as misdirection then Jim really would lose all hope for himself, being manipulated by a man that stupid.

Magnussen raised an eyebrow at that, watching Jim stroking his thighs and then reaching down to undo his jeans, "Yes. Lestrade is a dull man. There is no need to spend so much time with him." He stroked under Jim's eye with his thumb and then murmured, "You would do it, wouldn't you, suck me right here, and right now. Would you if I made Sebastian watch? That would be interesting, wouldn't it? Do you think he would try to attack me, your big brave protector? Would he hit me? Would you stop him? That was a very interesting video to watch. I leant many things.”

Jim’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as Magnussen undid his jeans. He had the feeling that they were playing chicken and whoever gave in first would lose when neither of them necessarily wanted this to happen. Magnussen’s cock bulged a little, strained underneath his pants between the open zipper. “I’ll suck you as many times as you want if you give me what I want.” Jim leaned forward, stopping short so that he only breathed against Magnussen’s clothed crotch, escalating the situation again but stopping short. He wouldn’t do it unless Magnussen agreed to his terms. “Oh? What kinds of things did you learn? Did you get hard watching it?” Jim squeezed his thighs with his small hands, tilting his head and watching Magnussen with a smirking curiosity.

"Of course I did." Magnussen said gravely, hooking pale fingers in the front of his briefs and tugging them down, watching Jim's face intently, "It was an attractive young man being fucked in many different ways, it would've been biologically impossible not to react. I was very displeased at Cyric though - he has far too much imagination and far too little thought." His hands absently stroked and tugged at Jim's hair, "You would, wouldn't you. Right now. You would suck my cock if I asked, and you are being such a good little thing and not doing it until I ask. Were you always a slut, I wonder, or did I make you one? Your father tells me you always were but we know that's wrong. You must have had an innocence one day.”

Jim kept the revulsion off of his face. Magnussen’s cock was un-extraordinary but somehow it was the most unappealing thing he’d ever seen. Suddenly he wasn’t nervous though. Just resigned. It would be okay if he got control of the film. “Not all of it was Cyric’s fault, plenty of those ideas were the sergeant’s. And they were only acting on your orders.” His gut tightened as Magnussen stroked and pulled at his short hair. “We both want something. This seems like the most practical way to see it done.” Jim frowned a little, letting a tiny bit of his irritation show as Magnussen spoke. “I’m not a slut. And please, my mother worked in the industry for years and never had any problems brining johns home with her. She didn’t exactly work hard to protect me from that part of her life, I was never innocent.” Magnussen still hadn’t agreed yet so Jim pressed his face against the inside of his thigh, near his crotch, watching and waiting for Magnussen to either push him away or tell him they had an agreement.

"I told you how to get those original copies. Keep working for me. That is all. This is... some sort of strange employer perk." Magnussen looked down at the face resting against his thigh and suddenly shrugged, moving away. "Besides, you still have blood tests to come back, and I'm certainly not about to risk it. Stick with Carl until the end of the week, I'll have finished with him then and we'll find you a new job.”

Jim knew that Magnussen had an equal chance of pushing him away but it was still disheartening. He didn’t try and touch Magnussen further but he did still keep his hands on the man’s thighs. “Please. Don’t tell me you don’t have condoms in here. There’s no telling when I’ll get them at that rate.” Jim felt a wild desperation — if he could get enough control over Magnussen, even though sex, that would be something. He’d have _some_ control. And he’d have the video. “You could have my arse or I could jerk you off if that’s what you’d rather, just to be safe. My mouth has got to be better than wanking over those films. Why watch when you could have the real thing as many times as you want?” This was good. If Jim could convince Magnussen to start a sexual relationship Jim could make him want to keep him and that would give him some protection. He was glad that he was almost done with Carl.

Magnussen looked down at him, weighing up which would hurt and damage Jim most before knocking him under the chin and nodded, "You'd give me your arse? Then do it. Trousers down and over the desk. I want to see what the fuss is about. Clearly there's something in there that makes big men go mad for you - and you are right, it will be better than wanking.”

“For the sergeant’s films.” Jim clarified, standing quickly and trying to get his feet under him while his legs felt like they were made of gelatin. This was better, actually. He wasn’t sure that he’d have been able to suck Magnussen’s dick without biting and getting horrible flashbacks. At least this way if he lost his nerve he’d only embarrass himself, not get his teeth pulled out with pliers. Jim paused for a second, feeling absurdly guilting suddenly and hoping that Sebastian wouldn’t hear about this. Then he undid his own belt, tugging the military trousers down and bent over the desk, spreading his legs and resting on his elbows.

Magnussen looked at him, waiting until he was naked and then tugging a ruler off his desk and snapping it across the pale skin, hard and unexpected. "No. Not for the sergeants films. Because I want it and you offered it because it seems you know nothing better to offer." The ruler slashed down again, cutting into the underside of Jim's arse where it met his legs, "Do you think I employed you for _this?_ If I wanted a pretty little boy to fuck and suck I would have asked Cyric for someone, someone expendable." The ruler slashed down again, "Is it that hard to believe you are worth more than what you can be screwed for? That was meant to be a punishment, to teach you a lesson, but I saw you in those tapes. You learnt nothing." Another line over pale skin, "I saw Moran. Saw him rush to protect you. Saw you, broken and bleeding and used, trying to protect him.”

Jim yelped as the ruler came down hard on his arse, stinging and biting into his flesh. “We don’t have a deal then,” Jim sneered as he tired to tug up his trousers and move away. The ruler cracked down again and again, eventually Jim stopped trying to move and just stood in stubborn silence, seething over the humiliating punishment. He was probably still going to get fucked after too. “How am I supposed to know what I am worth to you? You send me to Sebastian to be his fuck toy, you punish me and give me to anyone else witch a penis and and sadistic streak to reward them for _good behavior_ and then when I start working for you again you give me to Carl and you tell him to use me however he wants. I’m not a fucking mind reader, what else am I supposed to gather from the way you treat me?” He gasped, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from pain and frustration. “I learned, I came back, didn’t I? I’ve done everything you told me to.”

Magnussen looked at him and then dropped the ruler, gently running hands over his arse and shaking his head, "Oh my poor little Moriarty, of course you did, you did everything. It is not your fault you are too broken to be of use. You are like a watch, stamped on and smashed, all little gears poking the wrong way and springs that could have been so, so useful." Moving back he helped Jim stand back up again, gently stroking his face. "You did come back. And you have done as I ask. Be useful for me - at least twice a day - isn't that right? Be useful for me and I will keep you. Carl is done. Finished. I have all I want from his father. From next week you will be back sleeping under Moran, hmm? Then I need you to get to someone else for me. _Not_ sexually, he will not be interested. Believe me. But you can still get to him.”

“I’m not _broken.”_ Jim growled, too frustrated to keep up the meek facade right now. Magnussen kept touching him, running his hands over Jim’s arse and his face. It made him want to be sick. He was just so relieved that Carl was over with, Jim would relish going back to the barracks and sending the boy to the hospital wing. “I don’t understand,” he muttered dully as he dragged his trousers back up, refusing to wince as the material scraped across the skin of his arse. “If he doesn’t want me then what am I meant to offer him? My _incredible_ essay writing skills? First dibs on all my meals? Should I iron his clothes?” Jim hissed out sarcastically.

"You see _this._ " Magnussen snarled suddenly in his face, "This is exactly why you are worthless and broken to me. A stupid useless _object._ You can think of no better way to interest a man than with your own cock and arse, even me!" He guestured around the room as if it was a witness. "I have something you want - the only thing, the _only_ thing you can think of to do is drop your trousers. I tell you of a new assignment which does not involve your arse and all you can do is complain. You want me to stop treating you like a whore, like a slut, yet that is all you will do for me. Go. _Think._ I will take you off Carl Powers when you can prove you can be something for me other than a whore who once got lucky with information I wanted. Go.”

Jim turned and left, feeling furious and angry in the knowledge that he couldn’t even do anything about his frustrations. Magnussen was such a fuck. Maybe if he had _told_ Jim the reason he’d been picked up in the first place then he’d have a better idea of what he wanted. No one had ever told Jim he was worth anything, except Sebastian, and even that was wrapped up in sex to an extent. He knew he could plan and scheme to an extent, he could read people, but those weren’t skills that would _interest a man._ This whole thing was bullshit. Now it looked like he’d be stuck with Carl until he figured something out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuser justifying their actions, suicide ideation, creepy sexual touching.


	8. You're like a Goddamn Feral Dog

Sebastian had no idea what had prompted Jim's early morning desire, but it wasn't repeated for the rest of the week. However he didn't allow Victor into his bed either, even to terrorise or hit him. He kept a suspicious eye on Carl but there wasn't much he could do, and when the weekend loomed with the expedition he just had to sigh and get used to working with Victor. Slumping moodily in the jeep as it took them there, ignoring Moriarty Sr. completely and throwing their little mission card at Victor's head, "Do that if you want something to keep you occupied. Or don't bother. Doesn't make a fuck of a lot of difference, I'm going to stick the tent up and sleep.”

Jim couldn’t imagining anything worse than going on an expedition trip for the weekend, not with Carl anyway. He hated them, unless they were with Seb, and then they’d just laze around in the tent all weekend having sex. That was certainly not his plan for Carl. Jim really didn’t want unsupervised alone time with him. Lestrade had offered to give him weekend detention but Jim knew he wouldn’t be able to get out of it that easily. His father hadn’t looked at him for two months now and Jim almost missed his hostile nature. At least then he knew he existed even if it was only as a disappointment. Carl, Jim, Sebastian and Victor were all scrunched up in the van, Victor volunteering to sit in the front while Jim sat sandwiched between Seb and Carl with his father driving. He glared at the back of his father’s head, finally getting irritated enough to snap. “You can’t just ignore me forever. I’m still your fucking son. Fucking your coworkers doesn’t change that.”

Moriarty didn’t miss a beat, didn’t take his eyes off the road and just said, “I have no son.” Jim felt a little light headed and he looked down at the floor of the jeep, glaring at it but not replying.

Sebastian watched them, eyes narrowed, trying to work out whether he was allowed to yell at Moriarty Sr. Or indeed whether he was allowed to wrap an arm around Jim and comfort him. Carl was grinning and Sebastian pressed his leg silently against Jim's then tugged the toggle off the side of his rucksack and threw it at the back of Moriarty's head. "C'mon Boss - all the time you've been here what've you done? Made a few teenage kids cry. Your 'totally not a son' has gotten one man sacked, another beaten half to death and his own private holiday accommodation. The only reason you don't like him is because he's making you look pathetic.”

Jim pressed his leg back against Sebastian’s incredibly appreciative of his support. Moriarty grinned and shook his head. “Now don’t sell yourself short, Moran. Making you cry like a little bitch has been one of the highlights of my school year. Your classmate got a teacher fired by seducing him, wiggling his arse around like a whore and got the other one beaten for the same reasons. What did Mags have you do for that favor, hmmm? Do you suck his cock Jimmy?”

Jim flushed in anger and embarrassment, remembering being on his knees in front of Magnussen, practically begging for it. “No I don’t, sir.” But it came out sounding less than convincing.

"Yeah I thought you were tough. Then I met someone tougher." Sebastian's eyes lit up at the realisation that Cyric _had_ done something for him other than make him feel pathetic - he'd made Moriarty seem like very small fish. "You should've been there - I was in fucking tears, you'd have wanked yourself dry." He rummaged around in his bag, looking for other things to throw. "Even _Lestrade_ is a better teacher than you and he's a fucking sponge finger." He faltered slightly at Jim's words, giving him a quick look. It had never occured to him that Jim might be performing sexual favours for Magnussen and the thought made his heart sink.

“Who, Cyric?” Moriarty laughed fully, the sound ringing unpleasantly in the small space. “He wasn’t so tough after I went in on him with a crowbar. You think he’s tough because he smacked your boyfriend around for a few days? Just because he took a cane to your skinny arse? You’re such a coddled child that you don’t know what the real deal looks like. Just remember that he’s not Magnussen’s enforcer, I am. I’m not paid here to teach, boy.” He left it at that, grinning and whistling while Jim kept his eyes on the floor.

His father knew he was a slut, that was why he had divorced himself from Jim. “Did you really hate her so much? Then why did you fuck her?” He asked about his mother.

Moriarty shook his head, “Whores are for fucking, not for having children with. I knew that a son of a slut wouldn’t grow up to be any different but I had to try, didn’t I? And now you’re a slut for faggots. I’m sure she would be very proud of you.”

"My arse is not skinny." Sebastian muttered at the floor, realising that the thought of Moriarty hurting Cyric made him feel cold and _then_ realized that he was repeating the same old mistakes again - falling for a man who had abused him because of the heady sense of being close to so much power and strength, not to mention mistaking an interest in hurting or using him for affection. "Well that's good because you're a shite teacher." He grumbled back, falling silent as Jim mentioned his mother. He didn't feel he should talk in this area. He still sneered though, as he saw the affect the words had on Jim. "Do you ever actually get any sex you don't pay for?" He sneered. "Because of all the men in this school you are literally the only one who'se been desperate and pathetic enough to have to sink as low as not only paying for it, but boasting about how much she didn't really like it even when you did pay for it." Victor gave a small giggle and then immediately shut up, terrified. "This is the prime of your life, Moriarty." Sebastian continued recklessly, finding another small item to throw at him, "And your spending it working for a certified nutter, bullying small boys and hitting worthless ex-squaddies with crowbars - I mean is that it? Is that your great fucking epithat? Even bloody _Victor_ here is going to have a more successful life than you. And your son definitely is.”

Moriarty made a noise of mock hurt, “Really Moran? I used to have your favorite class. You wanted extra lessons! Something tells me you might be stretching the truth just a little. Before you got here you couldn’t tell the difference between poison oak and poison ivy.” He went silent and glanced in the rear view mirror before speaking again. “I didn’t pay her. I hope you’d know enough from your own situation that whores can have recreational sex as well. Or did you miss that, seeing as yours was made to by Mags?” Jim flushed angrily, glaring at the back or Moriarty’s head. “Out of curiosity though, do you really think it’s more desperate and pathetic to provide financial support for a person who earns their living that way or to rape someone? Because my understanding is that both the sergeant and _you_ fall into _that_ category. So please stop throwing rocks in glass houses.” Moriarty did much more for Magnussen than bully students and interrogate his more pathetic employees, any information Sebastian was allowed to know was just the tip of the ice burg. He clearly didn’t know what he was talking about. “No, I don’t think so. That boy is going to be in the ground or in prison before he turns twenty at the rate he’s going. I worry for you sense of reality Moran.” Moriarty finally stopped the jeep, the other teachers got out and everyone let the students congregate for a moment.

Sebastian glared angrily at the back of him, wishing he hadn't risen to it, and not bothering to answer. One day he knew (or at least hoped) Jim would ask him to hit, damage or possibly kill his father. Sebastian could wait for that day. As soon as they were out of the jeep he smacked Victor upside the head and then snatched the card from him, "What are we doing? Nicking someone elses tent - huh yeah like I can be arsed dismembering a tent." Victor sighed, gloomily realising he was going to get yet another fail on this assignment and looking over jealously and irritatedly at Carl, who had at least never failed him deliberately on schoolwork. Sebastian seemed to have lost any ability to care about anything except training himself and mooning after Jim.

Jim grit his teeth as Carl poked and prodded him, occasionally giving him a smack or a pinch when Jim zoned out for too long or glared at his father without listening to Carl. “Okay so we just have to find five edible plants. Big fucking deal. Leave me alone.” Jim was not pleased at all that he was going to have to spend the next two days with Carl alone in the woods. Jim had been acting out towards him, not able to hide his resentment and rebelliousness nearly as well when he had all of this other shit going on. He still didn’t know what to do about Mags and the videos, specifically Jim was desperately trying to piece together what had been said in the room while he and Seb were alone with the camera rolling. Jim was standing close enough to Sebastian’s group and he muttered. “You lot should camp near us. If you hear screaming you should probably come over and keep us from killing each other.” Jim smirked and stuck his tongue out at Carl as the other boy scowled.

Sebastian managed a weak sort of grin as they parted, throwing the tent at Victor and sighing when the boy started to snivel, putting it up by himself eventually, and then zipping himself inside to have a wank. He felt very sulky and very irritated with Moriarty, and with life, for trapping him here when Jim was in a different tent. He tried very much to keep his thoughts on Jim as he did so, and to move them away from thoughts of himself and Cyric tying up James Moriarty Sr. and doing extensively painful things to him before Cyric fucked him hard and rough all over the blood-covered floor.

Carl gave Jim a shove, "Fucks sake get yourself out of Morans arse - don't think I don't know what you've been doing." He waited until they were alone, and Jim was putting the tent up, before elaborating with a sneer, "Victor heard you. The two of you. After I told you not to go near him you went and bounced on his cock.”

Jim didn’t bother stopping what he was doing, feeding the metal tent poles though the lining of the tent for the frame as he put up the tent by himself. “So what? It didn’t hurt you any, I wasn’t supposed to be doing something for you. If you aren’t going to fuck me than I can fuck who I like.” Jim thought this was stupid and absolutely none of Carl’s business. “I’m helping you out because that’s what Magnussen wants, that doesn’t mean you can tell me who I can and can’t have sex with.”

"I am in FUCKING charge of you." Carl snarled, his anger rising mostly because over the mast few days Magnussen and his father had been dropping enough hints to make him worried that his power over Jim would be rapidly diminishing, "I tell you what you can do, and it doesn't involve giving pleasure to a boy who tried to half kill me. Stop complaining and get the damn tent up - then go and find us edible plants.”

“ _No_ you’re not. I help you, I do shit for you, anything else has been because you hit me or threaten to go to Magnussen. Well I’m not fucking scared of you, Carl. I’ll fuck half the barracks if I like, that’s none of you business.” It was ridiculous that Carl thought that he could tell Jim what to do with a boy who Jim considered himself to be in some kind of relationship with. “You’re the one who’s complaining while I’m working. Get the fire going and get some food ready.”

Carl stared at him, becoming very worried that he was losing power over the younger boy. "Well what the fuck has changed? I still will hit you, and I still will complain to CAM - he works with my father you know? You should be fucking scared of me, and I'm not about to work on your orders. You get the fire going, and you make food. _After_ you've put up the fucking tent.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hit me. Mags has something new for me, that’s what’s changed. Besides what are you going to say to him, hmm? I do every task you give me, and you aren’t fucking me so you don’t have any legitimate grounds to say that I shouldn't have other sexual partners. I’m not afraid of you. The fire and food was just a suggestion if you’d like to eat sometime tonight, if you leave everything to me it’s going to take longer. If you want to sit around on your arse, bored, hungry, and cold, that’s your prerogative.” Jim snapped two of the sticks together to make them into a longer stick and fed the tent poles through the lining. The tent was really coming together.

Carl stared at him, his fear rather confirmed by that. He still felt strong enough, though, to wield power of Jim even if it wasn't mandated by Magnussen. He came over to the tent, tugging two of the supports out and snapping them together, "So that's it then? CAM told you you didn't have to look after me and that lets you off the hook? I notice it didn't work that way with Sebastian Moran - you're still his _whore_ even after CAM called you off. Why should you just walk away from me?”

“Yes it absolutely lets me off the hook, what, did you think I was doing all this because I like spending _time_ with you?” Jim sneered at him, trying to take the tent poles back. “That’s because you have a tiny cock and an even smaller brain. He’s my _lover_ that didn’t change just because Magnussen gave me another stupid boy to baby sit. Now leave me alone and let me finish.”

"Your _lover?"_ Carl started laughing, then snatched the tent poles away from him, whistled them through the air and landed them hard against Jim's arse. "He's got _Victor_ in his bed now, if you don't know that you're an idiot. And I found out those marks he had at the beginning of term - they weren't from you either they were from some other twat he sucked off - did you know that? He sucked a guy off to get him to stop hitting him - big brave Sebastian Moran." He laughed and swished the makeshift cane down again, enjoying the noise it made, particularly as it impacted against the back of Jim's trousers.

“He’s not fucking anyone else.” Jim snarled as the rod landed against his arse, even through the military trousers it still fucking hurt and he knew he was going to have bruises. “You don’t know shit Carl Powers. You’re a stupid boy who listens to too many rumors and isn’t smart enough to piece together what the truth is. You wouldn’t know a real piece of intelligence if it came up and bit you on the arse.” Carl hit him again and Jim dodged back. Unless Carl gave him orders to bend over then he was going to move away from him since it wasn’t a proper punishment, it was just Carl bullying him. Jim hated the sound of his laughter it grated in his ears and made his heart pound angrily in his chest.

Carl watched him, narrowing his eyes as Jim moved away. "What the fuck are you doing - stay still." He pointed with the makeshift cane to a tree, “bend over against that - and if you argue any more I'll have your trousers down." He could feel his heart thumping in his chest - with no idea whether Jim would obey or what to do if he didn't. "CAM told me. He told me he'd seen a video. Sebby Moran with an arse full of welts going down on some big blond tall bastard just to get him to stop hurting him…"

Jim sneered for a moment but ultimately did as he was told. Being mouthy to Carl and directly disobeying him were two different things and Magnussen was pissed enough at him as it was. “You are so fucking closeted. You think it’s normal to tell your male classmate to bend over a tree so that you can spank him with a rod? This is sexual harassment.” It was on the tip of his tongue to deny Sebastian sucked Cyric off but then he remembered those minutes when he was out of the basement on the phone with John. It could have happened. The thought made Jim nauseous for a moment, filled with an overwhelming realization that he hadn’t been able to protect Sebastian. He’d acted so strange when they left. No that couldn’t be right though, when he’d come back in Sebastian had still been bent over the exercise equipment, he hadn’t been moved at all. “Magnussen’s a liar, you should know better than to believe anything he says, especially if it sounds like something you want to hear.” Jim had learned that from experience. He decided, fuck it, and tugged his trousers down anyway, leaving his arse bare to show the two long deep red lines across his skin. “Your threats don’t scare me Carl. You can’t do any worse to me.” He knew it was stupid to give up the protection of his trousers but Jim enjoyed taking that power and threat away from Carl.

"Oh yeah?" Carl swished the cane through the air a few times, looking uncertainly at Jim's arse. He'd seen the mark Sebastian had worn and he wasn't sure whether he could genuinely cause that much pain - on the other hand Jim was being very fucking annoying and it was hugely tempting. He slashed the cane down hard, his eyes widening at the instant welt that formed across Jim's arse, the way it bit down into his skin, and the singing noise it made through the air, "Wow... oh wow..." Two hard slashes later and he was almost enjoying it, raising the cane to land a mark along Jim's lower back.

Jim had been watching Carl carefully over his shoulder, and for a few long moments he’d really thought that Carl was going to pussy out. That his aggressive acceptance would put the other boy off. The first one came a surprise and a little noise of pain escaped from between Jim’s lips, before he grit his teeth, determined not give Carl anything else. It fucking hurt. The stick was metal but it had enough flexibility to give it snap as it swished through the air. He heard Carl mumble something inaudible to himself but Jim was distracted because to his embarrassment he’d started to get hard. He fucking hated Cyric so fucking much. He couldn’t hold back his reaction when Carl hit his lower back and the metal struck his spine, sending shockwaves of pain through his body. “Fuck, you stupid shit, that’s dangerous.”

"What, you can't take it?" Carl taunted, but the next few strikes were lowered to cut up into Jim's backside. Carl though, genuinely wan't gay, and watching Jim's pale arse bounce around wasn't nearly as fun as the noise of pain he'd made as the cane had hit his lower back and Carl moved the cane back up, striking hard somewhere around the region of Jim's kidney's "Maybe you'll remember this next time you decide to fuck around with me, hmm? Just because CAM isn't interested in you being my servant, doesn't mean I'm not.”

“Sweetie why don’t you let me have a go with it when you’re through. Then we can talk about who can and can’t take what.” Jim’s voice was breathier than usual, strained with the tension in his body. Thankfully Carl either hadn’t noticed or didn’t want to mention Jim’s boner. His frustrating little problem wasn’t getting worse, but it wasn’t going down either. The strikes to his back just fucking hurt and he closed his eyes tight and pressed his forehead against the tree, trying to maintain control and composure. “You don’t scare me Carl. This all ends as soon as Mags gives me to someone else, you can’t scare me into compliance without him to threaten me with.”

"I don't scare you, well you look pretty fucking scared to me." Carl yelled out, getting seriously annoyed with Jim's inability to react much, reaching forward he grabbed the top of Jim's hair, tugging him over backwards and then swinging the cane down across his chest, feeling victorious as Jim's arms raised up to protect himself, "You're fucking hard, oh my god you little pervert. Is this what gets you off? All this kind of shit you used to do with Moran?" He swung the cane down hard again.

Adrenaline coursed through his body and Jim didn’t feel all of the hits fully, which was why he didn’t understand why his legs started giving out on him. Suddenly it was more difficult to breathe and Jim couldn’t get a breath out to tell Carl something was wrong. His back felt like one throbbing deep bruise but higher up one area hurt more than the others and Jim realized Carl might have broken a rib. He gasped and struggled for air as Carl grabbed him by the hair and threw Jim on his back. His legs were tangled up in his trousers but he had enough mobility to curl his legs up to protect his gut some as Carl started hitting him again, with more force and in quicker succession. Jim kicked out blindly at Carl and hit his knee hard with his combat boot. “Fucking stop.” He managed to gasp, as Carl landed a blow across his chest when Jim was too slow to get his arms up.

Carl swore as Jim kicked at him, lashing the cane down over his raised arms, furious now and just wanting to hit him, just wanting to recoup some of the power he had left in the only way he could exercise it, "Why - are you going to fucking behave?" He snarled, "Stop fucking fighting back? Do what I actually say? Is this what it takes to actually fucking get you to behave? You're like a goddamn feral dog, no wonder your father wants you put down.”

Jim growled as tears leaked out of his eyes as the pain in his back grew and Carl continued to hit him, crossing stripes over his forearms where he tried to protect himself and down his sides. Kicking hadn’t done much and Jim wasn’t feeling up to a fight so he sat up quickly and punched Carl in the crotch before stumbling to his feet, pulling up his trousers as he went, and hissing, “Sebastian is going to fucking kill you.” Before running in the direction he remembered the other pair heading, hoping that he could find them before Carl got him. Barring that, Jim could find a place to hide.

Carl bent over double, giving a wail of pain and stumbling after Jim as he fled, pleased that the boy was at least getting tangled up in his trousers, "You little fucking slut, I'm going to bloody kill you first." He practically screeched, stumbling through the undergrowth and managing to tackle Jim again just as he reached the edge of the riverbank, hissing and swearing as they both rolled over nettles into the damp soil by the edge, "That's what you'll do hmm? Run to Sebastian? Hide behind him? You better hope he's not burried balls deep in that little pouf Victor right now, yeah?" Grabbing the front of Jim's shirt he dragged him out further into the river, grabbing his head and dunking it underwater, trying to remember how he'd watched Moriarty do it, and remembering very well the effect it had had on Jim.

Jim ran as hard as he could, blood pumping loudly in his ears, it hurt so much to breathe but he gasped anyway, wincing but otherwise ignoring the pain his body was in. He paused for a moment as he reached the river, this one was deep enough the water would go up past his chest in the middle. That pause was enough for Carl to catch up and tackle him onto the ground. Jim didn’t notice the nettles at all, he was hissing and spitting at Carl, throwing mud in his eyes and biting the boys hand when it got too close to his head. Then suddenly Jim was under water, face pressed into the soggy mud on the floor of the riverbank, desperately trying to fight the weight on top of him. His brain screamed at him that he was going to die, he didn’t have air, there was water and mud in his mouth. Carl pulled him up for air and Jim gasped, struggling and hitting at Carl as the other boy flipped him over so that he was held down backwards this time by his neck. He could see the sun outlining Carl’s silhouette above him through the water. Fuck, but that wasn’t going to be the last thing Jim saw. He struggled for a moment or two longer before slowly letting himself go limp, pretending to be unconscious. That trick had never worked on his father but he was trained to spot a pretender, Carl was not.

Carl held Jim down as he remembered, tugging him up for air and hardly giving him time to gasp before plunging him back down again, hissing between his teeth. He stopped as Jim went limp, gazing at him and then panicking slightly, tugging him out of the water and shaking him a little, "Fuck, fuck, don't be dead you stupid little cunt, that's practically how your dad says good morning…"

The hardest part was not gasping for air as soon as Carl pulled him out of the water, remaining limp and still until the other boy laid him out on the river bank. He was muttering about his dad and swearing nervously. Jim reached up suddenly from the ground as Carl hunched over him, wrapping his hands tightly around Carl’s throat and with a burst of adrenaline he flipped them as he pressed Carl under the water. Jim didn’t want him to have any bruises. His breaths came in harsh sharp bursts as Jim zoned out, disassociating in the face of his panic and the belief that he’d been about to die. When he came back to himself Carl was still and Jim starred in shock, not able to remember when the boy had stopped thrashing. He pulled away in revulsion, tripping and landing on his sore arse, staring in shock at the body.

Jim sat on the banks of the river, shaking and gasping as he stared at Carl who was still half submerged in the water. Carl stared at him with dead open eyes and he felt a sudden intense burst of joy, that Carl was gone. He wouldn’t hit Jim again, wouldn’t harass him or call him names or laugh at him. Jim had freed himself, held Carl under until he — fuck. It hit him how much trouble he was about to be in. Jim killed the son of Magnussen’s colleague, he had to protect himself. A plan started forming in his head and Jim focused on that rather than the unpleasant churning in his gut or his mood swinging too quickly between elation and horror, leaving him dizzy. He left Carl there and went back to camp, pulling Carl’s military grade sleeping bag away from his pack and limping back to the water. Nothing had happened to disturb the body which he was grateful for. Jim moved quickly, finding five or six large and heavy rocks that he stuffed in the bottom of the sleeping bag and then came the difficult task of moving Carl’s heavy and waterlogged body into the bag. When he was secured Jim zipped it up and then started to drag the whole thing out to the middle of the river. These sleeping bags had a zipper that worked on both sides so that when it got below freezing you could zip yourself in without help. Jim was going to spin this as a suicide. He’d been practicing Carl’s hand writing for ages now, he could easily forge a note, write it when he got back to camp, hide it in Carl’s things. It was plausible and the best he could do under the circumstances. After releasing the bag to the current Jim waded back to shore and headed back to the camp. He was on his own now. Jim would manage this weekend and practice the lies he would have to tell to Magnussen, the police, and anyone else who asked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, character death, disturbing content, slurs.


	9. I'd do Anything for You

Sebastian stayed moodily in his tent until the evening when he decided that things had been far too quiet and boring and went to see where Jim was, grinning as he passed a dejected looking Victor coming back from a failed attempt at stealing someone's tent. It didn't take too long until he found the tent with Carl's bags outside, frowning at the zipped tight door and knocking on it, "Hey - Powers? I want to borrow your Moriarty - any complaints and you can go and find a fucking tree to complain to." He hesitated, it was far too quiet for early evening, there was no reason either of them should be asleep. Maybe they were out trying to complete whatever stupid mission they'd been given.

 

Jim had been sleeping and startled awake as someone approached the tent, pulling a knife out of his boot and watching warily. He stayed absolutely still and quiet until he heard Seb’s voice. Jim didn’t quite manage to smile but he moved as quickly as he could without aggravating the injuries too much. He felt a lot more sympathy for Sebastian’s caning. Jim unzipped the tent, tugging Sebastian inside and running his hands over the boy’s skin. He’d wanted to go find Sebastian immediately after it had happened but didn’t know where the boy’s tent was and honestly wasn’t very good at traversing the forest. He was relieved he was here now though. He’d been afraid another group would attack as part of their exercise and doing all the work and trying to keep watch and sleep at the same time was exhausting. It was getting warmer but Jim still wore long sleeves and trousers, needing to cover up the marks. If he had defensive wounds it would bring up far too many questions that he didn’t want to answer about Carl’s disappearance. “Hey…” he breathed out, not really knowing what to say. Everything felt so far away now, it was more difficult that he thought to connect the person he was now with the person he’d been last time he saw Sebastian. “What are you doing here?”

 

Sebastian watched the tent open impatiently giving a little yelp of surprise as he was suddenly tugged inside and felt up by Jim, but he responded and returned it eagerly, "Fuck good to see you, I thought Powers would be fucking around. I missed you, and I got fed up of Victor sulking over tents. Thought I'd come pay you a visit and check he hadn't been knocking you about too badly." Sebastian gave a grin, "He's got no Mags to hide behind out here.”

 

Jim squirmed away from Sebastian’s hands, not wanting to be felt up when he had a number of heavy bruises stretched across his body. “I’m fine,” Jim said with an upbeat voice, curling up on the side that hadn’t been hit, about the only part of his body with no bruising. “I was just having a bit of a kip. Did you bring any food with you? I’m starved.” He’d forgotten to eat, only now realizing how hungry he was.

 

Sebastian frowned a little as Jim squirmed away from him, muttering irritated threats at Carl under his breath and assuming Jim had been ordered not to let Sebastian maul him. Patting his pockets he pulled out an energy bar and sighed, shaking his head, "Ugh, not much, you should've told me. Haven't you got something in your pack?" Handing Jim the energy bar he unzipped the tent and unrolled the little canopy at the front, "Hey, shall I get a fire going? It'll be just like old times, yeah, but with a tent and comfort instead of being stuck in a ditch. And without you dying of hypothermia.”

 

“Just like old times. I’ll promise not to run off on you as long as you promise not to throw a used condom at my face.” Jim took the energy bar and munched on it happily. “Yeah, course, next time I’ll send a smoke signal so you know to bring food.” He muttered sarcastically. “Yeah there’s some in my pack I just — forgot. Go ahead and start a fire, we can cook. I just wanted something now.” He sighed and shook his head. “Don’t exaggerate, the hypothermia was only moderate and I wasn’t dying.”

 

"I'll try to reduce the condom flinging." Seb answered with a grin, setting up the fire and rooting through Jim's pack, pulling out a few more snacks and giving them to him. "There you go, and keep fucking warm as well." He bundled the sleeping bag around Jim, glancing suspiciously at the lack of other sleeping bag and then hesitated, "Is the fucker coming back any time soon?" He tried and then, brightening up, "If he's gone home in a snit can I take the tent? It'll make Victor happy…"

 

“No!” Jim realized he’d reacted too strongly and smiled to cover the slip. “No if he comes back later he’ll be pissed. To be honest I’ve started to suspect another group snagged him for their exercise. I still need somewhere to sleep you dumb ass. If you still need it at the end of the trip I’ll just hand it to you before they pick us up.” It was cheating but so was Sebastian just taking the tent because Carl was out. Jim settled down into the sleeping bag, letting his eyes droop in exhaustion as he ate from the snacks Sebastian gave him.

 

"That sounds good, it'll make Victor's day, poor kid." Sebastian gave a laugh and then lay down next to him watching the fire, losing the will to cook. He wrapped an arm around Jim, snuggling into him, his hands accidently pressing at the bruises on Jim's forearms, "Does that mean he'll be away for a while then, hmm? There's just us in the tent? We can pretend that we're here together and everyone else can fuck right off.

 

“You’re sounding irritatingly sympathetic. Found a cure for that empathy disorder than?” Jim snarked. Sebastian pressed against his bruises and Jim hissed and little before scooting away. “I don’t know how long he’ll be gone. If he’s not back by nightfall you should go back to your tent, I don’t want him to come back and find us sleeping together.” Jim couldn’t have Sebastian hanging around the crime scene too much, it would raise suspicion and implicate him.

 

"Yeah, yeah, alright." Sebastian said, a little moodily. He'd been looking forward to have either a snuggle with Jim or a fight with Carl and now he was slightly at a loose end. Sighing he gave Jim a poke in the back, hitting one of his bruises, "Well... what do you want then? Should I make you food and scoot? Am I your housemaid now?" He wasn't really looking forward to spending the evening wanking while trying not to imagine Cyric again.

 

“Ow, fuck! Quit _doing_ that.” Jim turned over, wincing onto his stomach so he could turn his head and scowl at Sebastian. He reached out to brush his hand against the other boy’s face but at the last moment he felt nauseous and couldn’t bring himself to do it so he let the hand drop. “No I want you to stay. Of course I do. I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.”

 

"Yeah?" Sebastian sighed, still very suspicious as to why Jim was treating him like a leper, refusing to let Sebastian touch him or get close to him. Moving a polite distance away he busied himself getting the pan on, pouring water into it, "Shoot then, what is it?”

 

Jim glanced at him, noticing his anger but deciding to press on anyway. “Carl said something earlier today about Cyric and you in the basement. Oh shit, I haven’t told you any of it… let me start over. Fuck.” Jim rubbed at his face with the heel of his palm. “There’s a video of the basement at the Sergeant’s house. I guess he wanted to film you two but then Cyric barged in and — yeah. It’s shit, believe me, I know. Magnussen swears he has all the copies. What I wanted to ask about was — well Carl said Magnussen told him that Cyric made you suck him off in the video. But that’s not true is it? I mean, I was gone for a bit but it wasn’t very long. He didn’t molest you.” Jim decided not to mention the other videos Magnussen had, they would just make Sebastian upset or angry and those ones didn’t involve him.

 

When Jim mentioned Cyric Sebastian felt his stomach lurch, flushing awkwardly as he remembered the lurid fantasies he'd been starting to have about the man, and when the mention of the time in the basement brought the whole incident thudding back. He stared at the bubbling water, trying to sort out which thing he could address first. "Course I didn't suck him." He said eventually, his voice sounding very distant. "He just kept whipping me till the fucking cane broke then told me next time he'd fuck me as well. And, you know, a few other choice words about my usefulness in life. How many people know?" Magnussen had a video, he'd possibly shown Carl... did Jim's father know? The thought of Jim's father watching that almost brought back the tears again, but they'd been properly buried and sealed up so instead he just scowled.

 

“No no no, Seb…” Jim sat up and scooted over so that he could gently rest against Sebastian’s back and hug him from behind. “I don’t think he’s shown anyone. Not your video, no fucking way with your father and everything. Mags is going to want to downplay your part in it as much as possible. He was just — really fucking angry about us, you know? I told him you hated me and then a video pops up… I tried to be so careful, I didn’t know he had a camera going. I’m doing everything I can to get ahold of the tapes, okay?” Jim would fix this, he’d think of something. “Shit I’m just sorry he hurt you.” He hadn’t had any sympathy at the time but now Jim had a better idea and he was sorry Sebastian had been involved at all.

 

"It's okay - c'mon..." Sebastian said with more assurance than he felt, bundling Jim into his arms and frowning at the little noises that were more like whimpers than anything loving. He looked at Jim's arms, all in long sleeves and gently tugged the end of them, looking into Jim's eyes, "Oi - what's this? Planning on showing me?" He didn't even care if the answer was no, and he gently let go of Jim, wanting him to get comfortable. "Don't be a silly boy - you don't need to do anything to 'get ahold of them'. It's not in Mags's interest to use them, is it? Certainly not right now. Save it for when it's needed - right now just try to survive Powers. What did he do to you?”

 

Jim bit his lip for a moment and then rolled one sleeve up, just to the elbow. There were two dark lines crossing his forearms, bruises so dark they looked black in the half light. When Sebastian let him go Jim curled up on his good side again, head in Sebastian’s lap, feeling miserable when it was so hard to get comfortable. He didn’t like hiding anything from Sebastian but he didn’t have the energy to calm him down if he got upset. He couldn’t tell him about killing Carl, Sebastian was not a good liar and there was bound to be some kind of an investigation. “I do. As long as he has them he can blackmail me, threaten to upload them, pass them around, whatever. Magnussen says I’m broken now and I only know how to do one thing. I don’t think that’s true.” His voice didn’t come out as strongly as he hoped it would and his last thought ended up sounding more like a question than anything.

 

Sebastian looked down at the marks, feeling a thudding in his head. This was clearly not the time though to fly off the handle so instead he just bunched the sleeping bag around Jim to try and make him comfortable and dropped two meal packets into the now boiling water. "Fucker." Was all he said quietly, and then raised his eyes at Jim's last question, gently stroking and tugging at his hair, "Oi, Jim Moriarty. You're good for far more than that. Course you are. And... fucked if this is the bloke best to trust, but Mycroft Holmes knows you are as well. And you know what - I think Mags does too. Otherwise he would't damn well employ you. He doesn't need a sex-toy, he needs people, yeah?" He sighed and stroked Jim's head, "You can do a fuck of a lot. You know that. I certainly damn well know that.”

 

It was pretty pathetic, he shouldn’t need reassurances or encouragement but he was sixteen and he’d just killed another boy today, he’d taken a life and he barely even remembered it. He felt unusually fragile and just decided that he needed a bit of time to get his head straight. “Thanks. Just — thank you. I don’t feel like he’s using me effectively, I did my best with Carl but fuck I’m just not good at that servant shit. I’m decent at planning or manipulating people. Leadership. But fuck if Magnussen is ever going to give me that kind of opportunity.” Jim pressed a hand against Sebastian’s thigh enjoying the warmth and the solidness of him. It was soothing.

 

"Planning and manipulating people?" Sebastian bit back a smile and continued stroking him, one eye looking out for Carl, "Well fuck his job and fuck him. Plan and manipulate _him._ Dress for the job you want, yeah? You know I'd be there to rip his fucking appendix out whenever you ask, right? And your dads as well. Could do both of 'em, one with each hand. Mags won't let you be a leader, because he's a bellend and he wants to lead. So just be one. You take control of him. And Mycroft if you want. All of them. Fuck all of them.”

 

“I’ll do everything I can.” He had a plan niggling around in his mind involving stealing the tapes but he realized that would be incredibly difficult. Jim really needed to discuss them with Mycroft before he started planning in earnest. “Doesn’t matter if you rip out his appendix, you don’t need that to keep living.” He snorted and buried his face in Sebastian’s lap. “‘Fuck all of them’ might not be the best advice in the situation I’m currently in. Thank you.”

 

"i dunno - he'd have trouble with a massive fuckoff hole in his stomach." Sebastian smiled as Jim's face nuzzled at his lap, "Well, you know. Fucking murder all of them. Same thing. But I'm serious. You want me to harm them I will - I don't have many consequences to worry about and I'm not arsed about them even if I do."

 

“That’s true,” Jim acquiesced. He hummed and pretended to consider it. “If you do it you’d be tried as an adult. I’m not sure how that would go over for me, what with the emancipation and all. You’d do well in prison. It’s just like this place. Just more people for you to bully.” Jim went quiet for a second wondering if he even wanted to know before he decided to just ask. “Carl kept saying that you’re fucking Trevor. I’ve seen him in your bunk with you. What is he… stroking you off or do you just rut against him or what? I’ve been all over the place as far as — you know, taking care of you, so I get it. I just want to know.” He didn’t like the idea, at all. Logically it made sense and knew that it should be fine, but it wasn’t. It made him bloody furious.

 

"Yeah well I wasn't thinking of doing it _legally."_ Sebastian said, sarcasm dripping off his words. "I mean I wasn't about to challenge your dad to a duel to the death - you know you said Cyric got smacked around? Do you think the bloke who did that is sitting in prison right now? I was planning on doing it in a dark alley and not actually getting arrested." He paused when Jim mentioned Victor, "What - no! Fuck no. He hasn't touched me. I just beat him up a few times and we stayed in the bed together. He's not interested in my cock.”

 

Jim stared at him, waiting for Sebastian to realize what he’d said. When he didn’t, Jim sighed. “Beating someone up and then keeping them in your bed is not normal. You do realize that’s foreplay for you right? That’s how we got started, more or less.” He was mostly teasing, although he wasn’t ruling out the possibility that there was attraction there, only that they weren't currently acting on it. Jim reached up and took Sebastian’s hand, curling their fingers together. “Got my arse whipped today. Don’t suppose you what a look? I wouldn’t want your wank material to get stale in my absence. Magnussen told me that he’s got someone new for me to go after, Carl’s basically over. I’m not sure what that means for us but maybe… it’s a possibility at least.”

 

Sebastian frowned at the words, it was something he hadn't considered and then he sighed, "Yeah, alright. I misbehaved. I didn't fuck him, there were no cocks touching or anything but he was in your space in the bed nd he shouldn't have been. I thought I just did it to freak him out but it did feel sorta nice with a body there." He gently squeezed Jim's fingers, "Won't again, yeah? Promise." He hesitated and then nodded, "Yeah, alright. Save Cyric getting in there. It's such a fucking shame though, you're not even a masochist..." his voice died out and he gave a whistle as Jim started to strip.

 

Jim was satisfied with Sebastian’s answer and gave him a nod to let him know he’d accepted his promise and apology. He sat up and started with the shirt, exposing the lines across his spine and chest and forearms. Jim rolled over onto his hip and wiggled out of his pants and trousers, leaving himself exposed. He’d checked the bruises earlier and figured Carl gave him about fifteen strokes, his arse and back got the worst of it. “Dunno, I didn’t used to be but I got hard enough when he was doing it. Carl found that very amusing… _Wait_ have you been fantasizing about Cervix?”

 

Sebastian hissed at the state of his arse and back, instantly grabbing at Jim's rucksack and tuging out the first aid kit. "Think he'll mind if I patch you up?" There wasn't much he could do about the bruises, but there was the odd cut and graze. He flushed as Jim mentioned Cyric and scowled, gently rubbing antiseptic where the tent-pole had broken skin. "Ugh - can't help my fantasies can I? Just - he fucking broke me down, you know, not unusual for me to find it hard to get that out my head. I doubt you wanted to get fucked by him particularly, and you can't help getting hard, right?" He unrolled a strip of gauze, rather hoping the Cyric topic would be dropped.

 

Jim’s mouth twisted into a strange mix between a grin and a grimace. “No… I don’t think he’ll mind. I tried to check everything over earlier but you know, it’s hard to doctor yourself.” The worst areas were places where there was not much fat — his chest and forearms looked bad because it was just skin laid over bones on his thin frame. His back hadn’t done much better and it fucking hurt, more than any of the other places. He was lucky that he didn’t seem to have a spinal injury. It would be best to have John check later anyway. “He used the tent poles. Got sore at me because Trevor told him that we fucked.” Jim groaned and flushed as his cock started to stir just a little as Sebastian pressed on the bruises, checking them over with the sting of the antiseptic. “Okay… that time it’s mostly you, I swear. I don’t just get hard anytime someone hurts me. But my pants were down and — Cyric used to do shit like that a lot, it’s a trained reaction. No I can’t help getting hard.”

 

Sebastian growled but just smoothed over gently on the bruises, reaching to smooth over Jim's cock as well, and watching his face to check that was okay. "I'd complain, but given that last night I wanked off to the thought of him beating me and fucking me in a pool of your dad's blood I'm not exactly the best person to throw stones." He sighed and gave Jim a bit of a troubled look, "Not that it wasn't nice to see him in hospital but, you know, it wasn't me that put him there, was it? Feels like I've still got unfinished buisiness with him which makes it hard to get him out my head.”

 

Jim wrinkled his nose in disgust, “ _Please_ don’t talk about fucking in my father’s blood while you’re touching my cock. Or just not at all. I can live without the mental images.” He looked over Sebastian with thinly veiled concern. Jim needed to get back to fucking him, that other shit just wasn’t healthy. He shook his head, watching Sebastian seriously. “That one’s mine. He didn’t rape you. One day I’m going to light him on fire and if you want to play with him before I do, that’s fine. But he’s mine. I’m leaving the sergeant for you, I’d say that one’s equally if not more important for you to deal with personally.” Jim also had personal grievances with the sergeant but that was primarily Sebastian’s trauma.

 

"Yeah - I don't care if he's yours, I just want to watch." Sebastian said with a smirk, a little whistfully moving away from the subject of Jim's fathers dismemberment. He continued stroking Jim's cock and then bit his lip, "Um... look. I know you're all bruised and you don't want to piss off the wankstain who shares your tent but..." he looked down at Jim's cock, "C'n I try, maybe, giving you a blowjob?" It didn't come out as elegantly as he'd hoped but still, worth asking.

 

“I’d want you there. Maybe one day you can bring him to me.”  Jim was perfectly fine with his father being dismembered but he really didn’t want to imagine the man who raped him fucking his lover with his father’s blood all over him. Total boner killer. Jim hummed happily and his breath caught in his throat as Sebastian continued to stroke him and he continued to harden. “He’s not going to bother us. I’ve got condoms in the bag — they were for him, just in case he tried anything I wanted to have protection handy, but this is infinitely more preferable.” Jim laid back down on the sleeping bag, on his back with his leg’s spread while he touched himself and waited for Sebastian to come back with the condom.

 

"Yeah and now you're killing my hardon, talking about that fucker." Sebastian grinned, realising his words were completely at odds to his hard cock and grabbed a condom. Jim's trousers were already spread and he hesitated, it seemed so odd to be on top of Jim and doing this. He liked the position though, completely a reverse of how he usually imagined blow-jobs. He gently ran a hand up Jim's leg to the inner thigh and then slid the condom on with his other hand, reaching down to kiss at Jim's cock, heart beating wildly and happy to ignore the taste of plastic.

 

“You were talking about my _dad,”_ Jim grumbled, but he wasn’t upset. He watched Sebastian imploringly for a moment, wishing that he could tell him what he’d done. It was eating him up, the weird mix of guilt and fierce joy. He wanted to brag and he wanted to be sick because Carl had hurt him but he hadn’t wanted to kill him, Jim _heard him_ say that. It had been an accident. Or a moment of insanity. He wanted to tell him but he knew that he shouldn’t, to keep them both safe. “You’re stuck with me, you know that, right? I’d do anything for you.” Jim rubbed at his face, feeling emotionally raw and tired. It was out of character for him but today had been seriously fucked up and he just wanted to tell someone.

 

Sebastian looked up from between Jim's legs, looking slightly lost and confused, " _You'd_ do anything for _me?"_ That was an interesting one to process and he licked slowly at Jim's inner thigh before coming back to kiss and lick at the head of his cock, "Ahhh fuck that. C'mon, I should be the one protecting you..." and then, gripping the base of Jim's cock he murmured, "Just... stay alive, yeah? Stay with me, and promise me that one day, I don't care how far in the future, you'll let me hurt one of them: Cyric, your dad, or Carl…”

 

“I have a list…” Jim gasped, moaning as Sebastian started to lick at his cock. “Fuck. No one’s done that before. Given me a blow job.” It was a realization for him, that even after all the shit he’d been through there were still things he hadn’t done, things he could make good memories around. “Yeah. What do you think last term and spring break was about, hmmm? Fooling around with Sherlock, pissing off Magnussen, staying with the sergeant… I was protecting us. Keeping you out of this.” He moaned and writhed a little, fighting to keep his hips still. “Ye-yeah. Promise. 'M gonna try and stay here with you, okay? You do protect me, from myself mostly which is equally important…” Jim gave little tugs at Sebastian’s hair, breathing harshly and just fucking pleased they had some privacy for once.

 

Jim's words, _no one's done that before_ was somehow the hottest and most erotic thing he'd heard. The thought that after everything Jim had been through, Sebastian could still be his 'first' - for this and maybe other things, made him moan happily around Jim's cock, his hands sliding up Jim's hips, not holding them down but gently running the back of his nails down them. He started to bob his head back and forward, taking in more of Jim's cock each time, memorising the taste and smell of it, the length in his mouth, the way it was so completely different to the other one he'd had. Jim's little fingers were curled and tugging in the blond strands of his hair as he started to gently suck, nodding his agreement with everything Jim was saying and hoping that counted as he couldn't speak.

 

Jim moaned loudly, rocking his hips gently and continuing to tug on Sebastian’s hair, rubbing the skin behind his ears. The other boy moaned and the vibrations traveled down Jim’s cock, he wiggled around happily. It was strange to just be the one receiving but he liked it, liked how Sebastian always made him feel, he felt a new burst of protectiveness and determination to keep him out of this mess until he was ready. It had been at least a week since they had been able to fool around and it wasn’t long before Jim was coming into the condom, a whine low in his throat as he arched up into Sebastian’s mouth.

 

Sebastian hadn't been quite ready for Jim to orgasm, not sure at all that he was good enough, and he felt a burst of excitment as Jim did, as he managed to bring his boyfriend to his first blowjob orgasm with his mouth alone. He sat back, grinning and looking at Jim and then reaching down to stroke his own hard cock, "Mmmm... that was... that was fucking amazing. Was it really your first?" He sounded a bit more eager than smug and gave an awkward grin.

 

“Yeah,” Jim panted, trying to get his breath back as the air cooled his skin. He grabbed for a towel from his bag and started cleaning himself up and disposing of the condom. “It was good, way better than mine, I’m sure.” When he was clean and it didn’t feel like he had insects crawling under his skin anymore Jim took a few moments to watch Sebastian stroke himself with a smirk on his face. “That was the first time for me, yeah. Cyric is more into getting his partners to come for humiliation purposes more than any real desire to get another person off. You were wonderful.” Jim started petting his hair to make up for the tugging earlier. He added his other hand to Sebastian’s stroking him off with their mutual grip until he was coming into the towel Jim set out. He bent up to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. “You need to go now. Don’t want him coming back and seeing you. I’ll meet up with you at the pick up-spot on Monday, okay? I’ll be alright until then.”

 

"Don't talk about Cyric." Sebastian muttered, but it was easy enough, here in a light tent in the early evening with everything smelling of Jim, to banish Cyric completely, moaning and gasping as Jim's clever little hand made him cum. He gave a smile, cleaned up into the towel and then gave Jim a kiss back, gently patting the side of his leg which he seemed to remember had been uninjured. "Yeah - don't let him hurt you any more. Tell him I'll rip his spleen out. And if you could give your tent to Victor on the way out I'm sure the poor little sod would appreciate. I've fucked up his grades, and his face, enough already.”


	10. I Dreamed I Killed You

Jim spent the rest of the weekend by himself, agonizing over the details, how much evidence he’d left behind, what he was going to write in Carl’s suicide letter. When he slept, which wasn’t often, he dreamed of sitting by the river, kissing Sebastian until he opened his eyes and Carl’s pale water logged body hovered over him, pinning him down, a little water beetle crawling out of his mouth and Jim would wake with a scream on his lips and his heart hammering. He dreamed of drowning and he dreamed of Carl’s swollen pale fingers grabbing him and pulling him down into the water, seaweed in his hair. Finally very early on Monday morning Jim packed up the camp by himself, shouldered both packs and slowly made his way to the pick up site. His body still hurt and carrying both packs was a struggle. Just about everyone else was already there by the time he managed and Jim wordlessly dropped Carl’s tent off to Victor before leaning against Sebastian and steeling himself for the day he was about to have. “Morning.” He muttered.

Victor frowned in confusion as the tent landed at his feet, looking up as Jim staggered over to Sebastian, who took his packs quickly and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Sebastian was starting to develop something of an instinct as to when things were odd - and this was definitely wierd. There was no Carl, for a start, and Jim looked grey and ashen and was shivering against him. He kept quiet though, providing a solid warm force for Jim to lean against and not speaking as Moriarty and Lestrade arrived to pick them up. He still carried all Jim's belongings though, and Carl's extra pack, not wanting to be the first to speak up about the other boys absence.

Jim stayed pressed against Sebastian until his group number was called and he reported to Lestrade for check in. “Sergeant Lestrade? Carl isn’t here. He left the first day we got here and I haven’t seen him. I thought that he was captured by another group but I still don’t see him…” Jim thought it would be more suspicious if he didn’t bring it up at all, if he waited until they worked it out on their own, it was better to give them a story than to let them come to their own conclusions.

Lestrade scowled and shook is head, "He's probably buggered off to the nearest village to get pissed, alright everyone in the jeep." They were driven back by Moriarty Sr again, but this time Sebastian didn't say a word, just let Jim lean against him, stroking him gently with one arm wrapped around the boy's thin still-bruised body while Victor held Carl's tent in his lap victoriously, pleased to have finally passed an assignment.

Jim felt both relief and dread when Lestrade assumed Carl had run away. It was stupid and irresponsible, leaving mostly children outside unsupervised wasn’t too bright in the first place, but Carl could easily have fallen and hurt himself, he could be unconscious, and they were blowing him off. This was only good for Jim though because it made it more likely that crucial evidence he missed might be destroyed in the water before they found the body. Sebastian sat close to him in the jeep, pressed against his side with his arm around him. When they got back to school Jim let Sebastian grab their things and limped over to medical. He was worried that Carl had broken something with that stupid fucking tent pole.

John looked up as he saw Jim enter, his eyes hurt and angry - angry because part of him had hoped that maybe Jim would get throught he exercise without being hugely damaged again, and of course here he was, back at the medical centre. He managed to swallow the anger down and gave a wan smile, "You know, I really shouldn't let you out of my sight. How are you? What happened?" He hadn't yet heard the news about Carl - Lestrade and Moriarty were out looking, assuming he'd just wondered off and missed the call back.

Jim saw the anger in John’s expression and wasn’t sure who it was aimed at but figured it was either for Mags or Carl, Jim didn’t think he’d done anything to John recently unless it was just for getting hurt and wasting John’s time. He had actually stopped coming in every time because there wasn’t anything John could do and most of the time Jim knew it wasn’t serious but because his spine had been hit a couple of times and his ribs about five times, there was a potential for broken bones because of the pain levels and what he was hit with. Jim set down the pack and brushed his hand down Sebastian’s arm for a moment to thank him for carrying Carl’s pack too, before unzipping his jacket and then pulling that and his vest off so that John could take a look. “Just the usual. Talked shit, got hit. I got nervous this time though, he hit my spine and there was this awful pain and my legs gave out on me. I don’t know if it was just shock or if he damaged my spine or ribs.” Jim heaved himself onto of the medical bed, wincing at his sore muscles.

Sebastian scowled as Jim spoke, but didn't answer, just dropped down his belongings and gently patting the side of his arm. John glanced at him, despite not wanting to get into a pissing match with Sebastian Moran he still managed a sharp, "Would you like Moran to stay, or shall I ask him to leave?" Before giving a little hiss at the extent of Jim's injuries, "What exactly did he hit you with...?" He was almost afraid to ask, but this was more than just slaps and kicks and punches. Gently he started to examine Jim's body.

“He can stay. Sebastian did some first aid when we were out in the woods on the cuts.” Jim hadn’t bothered to pull off his trousers, his arse was hit most but that area was cushioned by fat and there was no bone damage, he was sure. No need to have his trousers down around John. “Tent pole? You know, it’s the structure of the tent, metal, kind of flexible? I’m most worried that he damaged the bone either in my spine, ribs or arms. Might just be a bone bruise. Just got nervous because it hurt so much.”

"He hit you with a tent pole?" John managed incredulously while Sebastian, who'd seen the full extent of the damage, gave a dangerous growl. John shook his head, pressing around the skin and asking Jim to move, relieved that he seemed mostly unharmed.

Sebastian muttered, "Oh yeah, I bet he fucking ran off. Ran off when he realised that if he come back I'd knock his fucking teeth down his throat."

John frowned and looked at him, "Run off?" his frown deepening.

Sebastian clarified with a, "Yeah - fucked off and didn't come back. Run home to Daddy if he has any sense.”

Jim didn’t join in in their conversation, he didn’t have anything to add and the topic still made him incredibly nervous. He knew what questions they were going to ask and what he should say but just chatting about it seemed dangerous, especially around Sebastian and John who both knew him well. “I’m sure he’s fine. Lestrade and the rest of the staff are combing the woods just in case he fell and got hurt somewhere.” Thankfully Jim’s body did not have the same reaction to John pressing on his bruises as he did with Sebastian. “I’m not hurt then?” Jim asked carefully.

"Boys don't usually run off - they do usually get found trapped somewhere with a broken leg." John muttered, glancing out of the door a little helplessly. "I'll finished sorting you out, don't worry, and you don't appear to be damaged. If you find _anything_ odd happening with your body - dropping things, shaking, uncontrolled movements, or even simply movements you could easily manage before, let me know. But I really should get out there and call Lestrade, Carl might be an incredibly badly behaved and borderline evil boy but he still is under my care. I wouldn't want him trapped somewhere all night.”

Jim started pulling his clothes on slowly, “Uh — he’s been gone since Saturday. I thought he got taken by another group. It wasn’t until we got to the pick up spot and I didn’t see him that we realized he wasn’t with anyone. If that’s true he’s been outside for two nights.” If John thought spending the night outside and hurt was too strong a punishment for Carl then he’d better never find out what Jim did. “I’ll keep an eye on my body. I think it’ll be fine.” He was just sore. Jim needed to get back so that he could write that letter.

"He's been gone two nights - does Lestrade know?" John grabbed his phone and left, while Sebastian helped Jim back to the barracks, scowling after John's body.

"Huh, don't know why he cares - the little fucker could be dead for all I give a toss. At least it'll give you a night to recover before he crawls back."

 

* * *

 

 

Jim was in a state of constant tension over the next two days, Carl’s body had been in the water for four days by the time someone finally came for him. Mags wanted to see him. Jim had been curled up in Sebastian’s bunk, he hadn’t left his side much at all over the last two days. He was still sore and afraid that he’d fucked up somehow and he was about to go to prison for the rest of his life. Jim wouldn’t go into custody. He wouldn’t. Jim’s arms tightened around Sebastian’s sides as another boy told him Mags wanted to see him in his office. Jim gave Seb a brief kiss on the mouth before getting up and going over. He knocked and took a moment to exhale all of his guilt and tension. When he walked in he was ready to perform. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Jim hadn’t forgotten their last disastrous meeting.

Magnussen turned to look at him and then nodded, his eyes staring into Jim's through the glasses. "I'm sure you've heard rumours, Moriarty, but we've found your late mark: a certain Carl Powers. Or rather, we've found his body. Floating in the river, downstream of the camping ground." His look was speculative, and he walked past Jim to shut the door behind him. "It's an interesting case. He's left a suicide note, which is very well written in what is _clearly_ his handwriting - he has distinctive handwriting as you know, having worked on his homework over the past month or so.”

“I didn’t hear that you’d found a body, no. Suicide? How sad, I had no idea.” Jim went ahead and took a seat, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from wincing. Obviously Magnussen was suspicious of him, but Jim didn’t exactly have a defense for the forged hand writing besides _I didn’t do it_ so he stayed quiet on that.

Magnussen's eyes widened at the wince, "Oh - are you hurt? I am so sorry. Rough play with Sebastian Moran perhaps?" Coming over to the chair, he crouched down in front of it, looking up into Jim's face. "Yes, it is sad. Nobody had any idea. Nobody had any suspicion at all that he was considering suicide - he seemed so happy, healthy, and well-adjusted. A bit of a bully maybe, but, tch..." he waved a hand, still crouching in front of Jim, and then suddenly stood to look down at him. "His body is unmarked - mostly. There are scratches along his arms, as if someone were trying to fend him off. A few small marks around his neck, a bruise on his shin." For a moment he stayed there, looking down at Jim and then he patted his head, very gently and moved back behind his desk, "There were brambles and nettles on the riverbank, clearly he caught his arms on them. It is not unsurprising for a boy involved in rigorous physical training to be bruised. It must be incredibly difficult for you, to have your close friend and classmate snatched away so suddenly. Please take the time you need to recover. You will not need to see me again until the end of the term when I will brief you about our next little job - your next mark to follow and provide me with information about. I hope for both our sakes that this next one will prove less... suicidal.”

“Yes of course…” Jim said, hardly daring to breathe. Magnussen knew, of course he did. And he wasn’t… angry? He wasn’t going to be punished for killing his associate’s child? “I’ll uh — be looking forward to it then.” Jim stood and left quickly before Magnussen could change his mind. That made it sound like Magnussen was going to be controlling the investigation. Jim might actually get away with this. He stumbled back to the barracks, feeling a mix of elation and dread knowing that Mags had his life in his hands, even more so than normal, and he climbed back into the bunk with Sebastian, laying down between his spread legs and wrapping his arms around his waist. He could feel Sebastian’s heart beat as Jim pressed his ear against Sebastian’s stomach and rested there. “They found Carl.” Was all he said.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Jim and nuzzled him happily, pleased the boy was back in his bed and grumbling a little as he heard the news, "Huh, where had the stupid fucker got to then? He'd better at least have mild frostbite after pissing us all about for so long." Gently he kissed at Jim's eyelids, "So what's the word from Mags then - do you have to go back to obeying his orders or do I get to tug his spinal cord out his arse and beat him with it?”

“What? No. Seb he — he’s dead. They found his body in the river. He killed himself.” Jim let Sebastian hold him, wanting the security right now when everything was up in the air. He thought he’d feel elated when his plan succeeded but mostly he just felt tired and stressed, he hadn’t stopped having those dreams.

"He's - what?" Sebastian felt a small part of his brain crash and fuse at the knowledge. Carl Powers was dead. He tried to rearrange his features and thoughts into some sort of remorse, but all he felt was a heady tingling of excitement as well as a schoolboys desire to giggle. "Fuck. Wow. He drowned himself? Why the fuck would the daft tosser drown himself? Huh - that's anticlimatic, he could have at least been eaten by wolves or something." He hesitated, managing to force out a, "Poor Carl - hey... does this mean you can stay in my bed?”

“I’ll try and remember that option if I ever need to kill myself. Wolves, got it. At least you’ll be happy.” Jim sighed and held on tighter to Sebastian’s waist. “Dunno why he did it, apparently he left a note in his trunk but Mags didn’t tell me what it said. I’ll stay in your bed, but let Victor stay in the bottom bunk, don’t make him move back to Carl’s. They were friends. And it’s not like I’d end up sleeping in my bunk most nights anyway.”

"He wrote a _suicide note_ Jesus fucking Christ what happened, did his dad go bankrupt or something?" Sebastian shook his head, still waiting for the news to sink in properly. "You aren't killing yourself, remember, fucking hell though if I'd had to guess which one of you would've..." He hesitated and then asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be, "Did you... you know... say anything to him? Like - not that I'm saying you would but I mean we're both bloody glad the little shit's fucking topped himself. Did you... maybe... talk to him?”

“I dunno what happened.” Jim said clearly again, hoping Sebastian would drop it but not holding out much hope. “It’s a shock, I know. _Don’t_ say that shit out loud, you don’t want people pointing out how glad you are he killed himself, they’ll start asking questions.” Jim didn’t know how he felt that Sebastian seemed to think Jim had bullied Carl into killing himself. “I didn’t say a fucking thing, I just did what I was told, didn’t I? We bickered but it’s not like I was the one calling him worthless or a whore. I guess he had some other issues. Don’t mention it to anyone, there’s probably going to be some kind of assembly.”

"Yeah, yeah don't worry I won't tell anyone. And nobody's going to ask questions about me, would they? I mean I didn't make him kill himself, and everyone'd bloody _know_ if I did it because he'd be nailed to the side of the wall." He cuddled Jim a little closer, still trying to work out what he felt about it - trying to feel less excited and more remorseful.

“You got in a fight with him a couple weeks ago, and you two fought regularly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they do want to rule out foul play if they questioned you. Just be ready. Maybe don’t say you would have nailed him to the wall.” He closed his eyes, feeling excited and nauseous at the same time. “It’s okay if you aren’t sad. He was bloody awful to both of us. It’s a relief he isn’t going to hurt me anymore.”

"Yeah, I'm pleased about that." Sebastian murmured, but making a move on Jim seemed incredibly crass after what had just happened. Instead, he tried manfully to make any excitment his cock might be feeling go down and settled for hugging Jim close. "Mags didn't give you a hard time did he? He's not blaming you for not looking after him properly?”

If Seb was hard, Jim didn’t really notice, respite his position. He was just that out of it and off balance right now. “No, no he’s not angry. No one could have seen this coming.” Jim was so so relieved he knew that Magnussen would have been his biggest obstacle and that could still be the case, but he could also be his ally. Mags wouldn’t let them get Jim in trouble, right? It would bring too much scrutiny on what he was doing here at the school, why Jim was being relentlessly bullied by Carl in the first place.

 

* * *

 

 

The news had spread quite a bit by the next day, and suddenly there was a gap around Jim wherever he walked - nobody wanted to touch him (except Sebastian, who was clearly holding back from touching him rather intimately and continously) and certainly nobody wanted to bully him. Police came to take a brief statement, and the official report concluded suicide, but Jim was still being given plenty of uncertain glances and a new kind of freaked-out respect. The truth of the matter was beginning to sink in - that the sergeant who'd bullied Jim had left and the boy who'd bullied him the most was now dead. Even Darren was mostly ignoring him in teaching sessions - happy for Jim to stay sat on the sidelines. Lestrade was the only person who treated him normally, edging into a classroom during the final lesson of the day and indicating that Jim should stay behind, sighing as Sebastian inevitably did as well. "Moriarty - Jim - I just wanted a word. Just wanted to check how you were doing. I know you're a tough little sod, but a death is a death after all. Moran stop rolling your eyes, it's not a thing most kids end up going through.”

The first day or two while the cadets started avoiding him, Jim felt like a leper again, something he’d grown unused to since before spring holiday. Now though, after all of the bullying and teasing it was just a relief. He didn’t care that they were scared of him and didn’t want to be near him, Jim hated all of them anyway. The only person he wanted to spend any time around was Sebastian, even John made him feel guilty somehow, like he’d be so disappointed in Jim if he knew, like he’d give him that same barely concealed look of alarm that all the rest of the kids gave him. Sebastian had gotten handsier with him lately but Jim wasn’t having any of it. He was getting more attached to the boy in the face of his isolation from everyone else, and he wanted that casual comfort that he seemed to provide, but Jim wasn’t interested in sex right now. He was still waking up from nightmares with Carl holding his head under while he woke up gasping for air. Lestrade stopped Jim after class and he stood there patiently, holding Sebastian’s hand carelessly. “I’m fine, sergeant. I didn’t… you know, _know_ what he was planning or see it or anything. It sort of feels like he’s just gone home and left school, you know?” Jim’s voice was softer, the bewildered and child like tone he used for the police when they questioned him.

Sebastian was living through a highly frustrating time - he'd assumed that now Carl was gone and Jim wasn't being bullied he'd be able to jump on him every night, but instead Jim was being awkward and twitchy and scowly. He was happy to hold Jim's hand though, when required, even if it made him feel a bit like Jim's private fuck buddy. He still couldn't work out what had gone on with Carl, there seemed to be a change in the truth each time Jim spoke it, and he still couldn't wrap his head around the boy actually committing suicide. Lestrate gave a small smile, looking at Jim and nodding, "I know, it'll sink in at some point, I know he used to bully you quite a lot. John told me... about the tent poles.”

Jim scowled a little bit when he heard John had been talking about him out of turn but he was used to people knowing private information about him now, and more likely than not John had been upset and just confided in his friend. “I suppose it will. It wasn’t really bullying, I was just helping him out for a friend. Occasionally we argued but friends do that sometimes.” It left an unpleasant taste in his mouth to call Carl his friend but that was the line he’d fed the police and Lestrade was not exempt from that just because he was privy to more information. The fact was Lestrade had been a police man, Jim had to be very careful around him and would keep his story straight with everyone. No one could know.

Sebastian gave him a slightly incredulous look as Jim referred to Carl as his friend, which was noted by Lestrade and repeated in his own cynical one. Sighing he sat down on the table, giving Jim a look and crossing his arms. "Carl was not your friend. He beat you with a tent pole. Do you do that to your friends?" He hesitated then added, "Sebastian Moran excepted." In a sarcastic voice. "You were the last person to see him before he vanished, I just wanted to check you weren't feeling responsible, or bad about it. Carl was clearly a very confused and damaged individual, going through a lot. You can't blame yourself.”

Jim shrugged and glanced away, squeezing Sebastian’s hand unconsciously. “He just got mad, boys do stupid shit sometimes. I don’t _have_ friends besides Sebastian and our bedroom activities are none of your business.” Jim tried to make him uncomfortable so that he would drop the subject. He didn’t want Lestrade thinking about it too much, that he was the last one to see Carl alive. He wanted to keep pushing the idea that there were signs of Carl’s impending suicide and let people fill in the blanks for themselves. “It feels like I should have seen this coming. Looking back it seems obvious he was going through some stuff but nothing can be done now. Did — were you part of the group that found him?”

Lestrade raised an eyebrow and Sebastian frowned as he thought about that, asking without thinking, "Did you see him again after the tent-pole thing, after I came to see you in the tent?" His frown deeped as he tried to imagine Carl beating Jim and then going off to commit suicide. It didn't seem to fit in very well. "I still think he topped himself because he knew I'd break his fucking _spine_ after seeing your arse."

Lestrade listened as Sebastian spoke, then glanced back at Jim, "No. Your father found him. But he called us over pretty quick. I saw him before the police took him to the morgue." He hesitated, not wanting to traumatise Jim with details. "Don't feel you should've seen it coming. Sometimes nobody can predict a suicide.”

“What?” Jim didn’t appreciate Sebastian’s questions, especially not in front of Lestrade. “No… I said that was the last time I saw him. I said I’d tell Mags on him, that he wasn’t supposed to be breaking my bones and Mags would give me to someone else if he hurt me too much.” That wasn’t exactly what Jim had told the police, they weren’t told about the bruises on his body at all, Jim only told them that Carl went off to collect their five edible plants and never came back. He watched Lestrade intensely, trying to read his mind and see what he saw. “Was he all… you know, bloated? Soaking in the water that long fucks you up, doesn’t it?”

"It just doesn't make fucking sense..." Sebastian snapped, confused, "Why would he beat the shit out of you then go and top himself? I still think he slipped and smacked his head..."

Lestrade scowled, snapping, "He didn't slip and he didn't trip. He was, yes, bloated, swollen, clearly drowned. He was in his own sleeping bag as well, with rocks at the bottom."

Sebastian's frown grew, "He beat you up and then went to get his _sleeping bag?"_

"It wasn't an accident." Lestrade snapped, "Because there was a suicide note. They found it in his belongings, written in his handwriting…"

“Seriously? It doesn’t have to fucking make sense Sebastian, it’s a suicide. Obviously he had other shit going on at home, and he was taking that out on me. Looking for control. Sometimes that’s all suicide is, is another way of exerting control.” Jim wanted this to stop, he didn’t want them to think about all the ways he’d fucked up and left loose ends. He felt a little shiver when Lestrade described the body. “I don’t fucking know Sebastian, I didn’t notice him getting the sleeping bag because I was sort of bleeding and bruised on the ground. He obviously planned it in advance if he left the note with his things before he went on the trip.”

"It should make some fucking sense - I mean what did he do, whip you to shreds then stalk into the tent and drag his bag out why the fuck would he-" Sebastian hesitated, staring at Jim and feeling something click into place in his head, He wouldn't... surely he fucking couldn't have... but Jim could've written a suicide note, and Jim could've held a confused boy underwater... the only thing that didn't fit was that surely, surely, Jim would've told him.

"If he planned it in advance, he would've known from the very first day he wasn't coming back..." Lestrade frowned as well, then started to come to the same weasly conclusion. Hurriedly he changed the subject - the last thing he wanted to do was either alienate Jim or freak out Moran. "Listen there's no need to hash this over more than is needed, Moran calm down, just let me know if you want to talk about it in any way. In any way." Sebastian nodded quickly - because if it had been Jim the last thing he wanted was Lestrade knowing, "Yeah, yeah, Carl was bonkers, topped himself, c'mon Jim, lets go.”

“Sometimes people just kill themselves Sebastian!” Jim finally snapped. “My mum did, there was no reason why she picked that day, nothing happened between one day and the next, her circumstances didn’t get worse, sometimes people just can’t deal with shit and they fucking die so they don’t have to deal with it anymore.” He saw something occur to both of them, something they quickly tried to push out of their minds and Jim tensed up, worrying that someone probably knew his secret. Lestrade was a police officer, he might try and turn Jim in. He didn’t know how to ask without giving himself away.

"Come on..." Sebastian tugged at his arm to get him to move and Lestrade gave a forced smile.

"You two run along - just - if you do need to talk..." he didn't want to continue the line of thought with Sebastian here, almost as much as Sebastian wanted to shut it down.

As soon as they were out of the room, Sebastian shook his head, "Sorry, sorry, shouldn't have run my mouth off. And yeah, I'm sorry about your mum, okay? If Carl Powers committed suicide and you were the last person he saw, and the only other person in your life who committed suicide was your mum then yeah, that would be completely fucking shitty of me to push you like that.”

Jim didn’t like that Sebastian was tugging him along, or how manic he was acting. “What do you mean ‘if?’ He killed himself, that’s what happened. And I accept your apology, asshat.” Jim wasn’t sure what to make of Lestrade’s invitation to talk, he might genuinely want to talk or he might be trying to trick Jim with some kind of recorder and get him to confess. He’d just have to avoid the other man for a while until this blew over and the police stopped sniffing around.

"He killed himself." Sebastian looked down at Jim then gave a rueful smile. It did make sense, it could make sense. Carl had been fucked up, gone out there, almost lost his nerve, then beaten Jim senseless, got his resolve out, tugged out a sleeping bag... yeah it worked. "Yeah. Course. Sorry. S'just you know. I guess it seems an anticlimax. I mean why the fuck didn't he do that three months ago and save you all that fucking trouble." This was big, this was fucking enormous, and he trusted Jim enough to not lie to him about what would be technically a murder.

Jim knew Sebastian very well, knew how to read him, and he saw when Sebastian decided to believe him and his suspicion left him. That was good. He didn’t want to carry this by himself but it was better than the added anxiety of worrying that Sebastian would say the wrong thing to the wrong person, that someone would overhear them talking. “I know what you mean… still, it’s done now. Mags will have another job for me soon.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jim was running through the forest, body aching, tripping on the foliage and trying to keep his balance. Someone was chasing him and he couldn’t stop even though it felt like his lungs would burst and his heart would pound out of his chest. He saw something out of the corner of his eye but when he turned to look Jim tripped and he went sprawling on the beach, the thing using the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. Jim shrieked furiously, grabbing a rock and bashing at the thing’s head. He saw Carl above him, red faced and alive. “I know what you did. Look what you fucking did. You little fucking slut, I'm going to bloody kill you.” Then Jim’s head was under water and he couldn’t breathe again. He felt the water entering his lungs, burning as Carl choked the life out of him. Somehow he got the upper hand and flipped them, pinning the other boy underneath him and holding his body down as it thrashed and finally when still. Jim choked back the relief as he flipped the body over. Except it wasn’t Carl, it was Sebastian and he was staring up with those blank eyes, face bloated and sickly pale. “Nooo…” Jim moaned, not understanding. It had been Carl. He’d been sure. “Fuck no… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry shit. Shit!” There were hands on him and dead Sebastian had ahold of Jim’s shoulders shaking him furiously and trying to drag his head under water again. That was when his eyes opened and he saw Sebastian hovering over him in the dark, pinning his shoulder down to the bed. “Wha —? Shit. Sorry.” Jim wiped at his eyes as he realized what must have happened.

He knew Jim had been having nightmares, and Sebastian hadn't been able to do much more than just pat him and hold him as they happened, but this one had been worse, Jim's arms and legs flailing, little moans and sobs and sounds coming out of him. Sebastian had been worried at one point that he'd fall out the bed so he'd held Jim still, gently stroking his shoulder as he woke and hissing into the darkness, "What is it? You alright? Jesus, what the hell were you dreaming about, that was a nightmare and a half.”

“What? I don’t have enough nightmare material to choose from?” Jim felt conflict between wanting to curl up next to Sebastian and wanting to take a shower and have space after the dream and residual terror. He chose to stay in bed though and he settled overtop of Sebastian, pressing his face against his chest so that he could hear his heartbeat. Not dead. “Dreamed I killed you. Was an accident.”

"You dreamed you killed me?" Sebastian gave a snigger, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around Jim, unable to stop himself sliding one hand down to pat Jim's bottom in hopeful optimism - not very hopeful seeing as he'd been rebuffed since the blowjob in the tent. "Why, what did I do? I hope it was something worthwhile at least if I ended up dead... and how could a skinny little thing like you kill me? Poison in the cornflakes?”

Jim was exhausted, already half asleep again now that he was pressed against Sebastian and he matched the other boy’s breathing. “Hm? Mmm. You were hurting me. Er — Carl hurt me. Thought you were him. I don’t like the water, just got scared.” He wasn’t aware of what he was saying or that it implicated him at all.

"You don't like the water?" Sebastian felt something inside him freeze up at the words. It had started falling into place when talking to Lestrade, but since then he'd locked away all suspicions stubbornly under his trust for Jim. Gently he stroked Jim's hair, calming his breathing, watching Jim's eyes flicker closed, "Heh, you drowned me didn't you?" He murmured gently into the boy's ear, "Drowned me the way you did Carl, yeah?”

“Mmmm…” Jim’s brow furrowed a little but he didn’t open his eyes. “Thought you were Carl… didn’t mean it. ‘M not supposed to talk about it.” Sebastian’s voice was close in his ear and Jim suspected he was having another dream.

"Thought I was Carl..." Sebastian kept his voice low, kept his hear-rate calm, despite the rage going on in his head. Jim had killed someone. Jim had committed a murder. Jim had committed murder and not told Sebastain and - worse - let Sebastian believe he was innocent, let Sebastian feel guilt for suspecting him, let Sebastian use the trust he felt for Jim to lock away any suspicions at all. His fingers slid down to the back of Jim's neck and stroked at the short black hair, "You killed Carl, didn't you? Held him underwater. Forged the note. That was all you, planned and fucking perfected.”

“He was going to kill me…” It was just a whisper and his heart rate started to accelerate again even though he was still mostly asleep. He wasn’t aware at all of Sebastian’s rage, or even that this conversation was really happening. “Nooo… I was the one under water. Then he was dead and I - I don’t _remember.”_

"Course you should've killed him..." Sebastian growled low, and then his anger and frustration overlapped as Jim started denying it again. Giving a little growl he grabbed Jim by the hair and yanked him upright, giving him a shake by his grip on the top of Jim's head, "Fucks sake, did you or did you not murder Carl Powers? Just stop bullshitting me around, alright?”

Jim gasped as Sebastian tugged him awake, shaking him and pulling his hair. “Ow shit, what the fuck is your problem?” He was genuinely a little scared because he didn’t know what was going on, and Sebastian was normally so gentle with him now. He didn’t remember any of their conversation so he had no frame of reference for Sebastian’s anger. “What are you horny? Fuck all you have to do is ask… you don’t have to go all Rambo on me.”

"What - you think I'd wake you up in the middle of the fucking night just for sex?" Sebastian snapped, angry because it did genuinely sound like something he'd do. "Fuck that - I've been holding back for the last few weeks just because of you - just because you're oh so  _traumatized_  after your dear _friend_ topped himself like your _fucking mother._ Right? Yeah? So I've been a fucking angel and not even tried to get in your pants. But then I always am aren't I, I'm always the good one." His voice was a low hiss now, his hand letting go of Jim's hair and giving him a shove, "Oh yeah, I give you blowjobs, and handjobs, and kisses and cuddles but I'm not allowed to get my fucking end away, not with you still being so fucking  _traumatized_  and _scared_ of great departed drowned Carl Fucking Powers."

Jim was hurting and confused so he just started slow, trying to keep his temper. “I’m sorry that you’ve been _so_ put out. You fucking know that started before Carl, you know that’s because of what happened over break. I’m sorry that I haven't really — been taking care of you. I’ve had a lot on my mind.” He was missing the context for this situation so from Jim’s perspective he’d been shaken awake in the middle of the night because Sebastian was furious he hadn’t been getting him off. Sebastian finally let go of his hair, although he had to reach out quickly and snag a bar to keep from falling off the bed when he was shoved. “Careful.” Jim warned.

"Taking care of me." Sebastian sneered, holding back the urge to hit Jim. Shouting at Jim, getting angry at Jim that was one thing, but hitting Jim in anger was a dark cavernous pit he wasn't sure either of them would ever come back from, "Yeah, 'take care' of me, that's a good idea. That's what you do isn't it? Break your own fucking body to make sure I'm not hurt, give me a quickie when I'm getting antsy, god it must be so _difficult_ for you having to string me along. Is that who I am, just big dumb Moran, good for a tease but no fucking use if you want to, say, FUCKING MURDER SOMEONE." The last three words gave out surprisingly loudly and he sneered, spat at Jim and then hauled himself off the bunk, smacking the side of it with his hand before storming out of the barracks, well aware that it wasn't the best place for such a conversation, and not sure he wanted to even be around Jim.

Jim sat in the dark as Sebastian stormed off, listening furiously for any whispers to start up. Surely someone had heard. He felt horror drop out in his stomach, that fucking _idiot_ just told the whole god damn barracks. Jim debated for a moment between whether it would be more suspicious to stay or go before deciding, fuck it, and he got up and followed Sebastian outside. Sebastian was angry but Jim could be quick and he caught up with him on the training grounds. “What the _fuck_ is your problem? Are you so fucking _stupid_ that you thought it was appropriate to say something like that with the whole fucking squad listening? Do you _want_ me to go to prison, is that it? You really hate me that much?” Jim didn’t know where this was coming from, just understood that Seb was angry at him and Jim needed to fix this.

"They all bloody well think you did it anyway." Sebastian snarled angrily, "And I don't think they accept paranoid teenage boys pissing themselves in the dark as evidence. Mags'll stitch it up. He always does, he looks after his own, doesn't he? Did you agree it with him beforehand?" Now he was outside, Sebastian had no idea to go, but there was a punching bag still hanging up by the tree and he headed for it, moodily swinging an arm into it, "I trusted you. I trusted you so fucking much I started believing you hadn't done it because I thought there was no way, no _way_ you wouldn't tell me. I trusted you because I couldn't believe you'd leave me hanging with all that guilt and uncertainty, worrying about you and looking after you, if you'd really finished him off yourself. But no, turns out you just didn't want to tell me - let me guess, to 'protect' me. Like you got yourself fucked up over the holidays to 'protect' me. Jesus, I need a lot of protecting, don't I? It's amazing you can still fucking function the amount you put yourself through to protect me.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d run your fucking mouth, oh and look, you did!” Jim snapped at him, “No I didn’t _plan_ it, he beat me until I couldn’t breathe and then when I ran, to go find _you,_ he tried to drown me in the river. After that there was no point in telling you, nothing good could come from you knowing, it was just one more fucking _person_ who could blab or blackmail me. And it looks like I was right. Thanks so much for that.” He was furious and couldn’t believe that Sebastian was doing this. “How fucking selfish are you? This is not some _game_ I’m playing because I’m so hard and a criminal, Magnussen has video of me being raped and is perfectly happy to upload it to the internet, or transfer custody back to my father, and now he knows what I did to Carl and could easily see me incarcerated. Forgive me for trying to protect myself and cover my own ass and I didn’t put your _feelings_ and your boner before that.”

"I didn't run my fucking mouth because I knew, I ran it because I was so surprised to fucking _find out."_ Sebastian snarled back, arms wrapping around the punch bag to hug it close, despite the damp dew that had settled on it, "You thought I'd blab or blackmail you? Really? You thought I couldn't keep a secret - no wait - you were fine with me keeping a secret when it involved pretending not to be going out with you, or pretending I hated you. You just can't be arsed telling me your 'secrets' when it's little things like murder - oh Magnussen knows? Well of _course_ he does - because the first person you'd tell when you murdered someone is the guy who had you fucking gangraped in an appartment in London rather than your supposed boyfriend who you clearly have no bloody desire whatsoever to actually fuck.”

“No I didn’t think you would blackmail me, but I didn’t want anyone else finding out! And of course I didn’t fucking tell Magnussen, he already knew, he saw defensive wounds on the body. The only reason I’m not in jail right now is because he told the police to bog off, I didn’t do a good enough job.” Jim was hurt and angry that Sebastian was throwing his struggles with intimacy in his face after what had happened. “I’ve been trying so hard to get over what they did to me. I’m sorry it’s not fast enough for your tastes. Why don’t you go fuck Victor then if you’re so hard up for it?”

Sebastian stared at him for a while, silent, hugging the punch bag and swinging back and forward with it, it was cold in just his slacks, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was go back into the barracks, and certainly not to sleep. "Of course I don't mind you taking the time to fucking recover..." He snarled eventually, tired and fed up, "But how the fuck am I meant to even trust you're recovering from what you say you are? I've spent the last week tiptoeing around you while you pretend to suffer from a suicidal bloody friend and only now I'm finding out that you were responsible for killing him?" His voice started to rise again. "And you think I'd want _Victor_ \- after all this bloody time? Fuck you, just... fuck you.”

“ _Of course you don’t mind?_  That’s bullshit. If you didn’t mind you wouldn’t throw it in my face that I’m fucking weak all of the time. I know that I shouldn’t let me affect me but I can’t just make my body respond, not in any way that’s real, and I didn’t think you’d want something that was faked.” Not after their history together. “I was pretending to suffer because it was the only fucking thing keeping suspicion off of me. Think about it — boy who lost friend, helped him with homework, sometimes fought sounds better than ‘boy was terribly bullied and just happened to be the last one to see Powers alive, also he’s going around smiling about it’ no that’s not suspicious at all.”

"Fuck off..." Sebastian snarled at him, not in the mood or mindset to have sensible conversations right now, "Just fuck off. Yeah, yeah, everything you do is sensible and everything I do is fucking stupid, I get that. But you could've bloody told me." He let go of the punch bag and gave it a few hits, turning away from Jim, "Go back to John, have a fucking sensible adult conversation with him, alright? Just ask yourself maybe if it would be worth having someone you do actually trust to watch your back, instead of just filling the world with morons that you don't trust to fucking feed themselves.”

“I do trust you,” Jim said quietly. “All I wanted while I was cleaning up and lugging his body and those rocks around was for you to be there to help and make sure I didn’t lose my shit because in the moment it felt like my world was ending. But I did it, and now I have to live with it. I guess you’ll just have to live with it too. I’ll be in my room if you want to talk later.” Going to John’s sounded like a good idea and Sebastian obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk right now.

"I fucking well WAS THERE." Sebastian snarled back at him, "I was there that same FUCKING EVENING. And did you tell me where he was, what you'd done- did we fucking discuss how best to hide it and what to do and how well we'd screwed over Magnussen? No I gave you a fucking blowjob and then wanked off. Don't walk away, fucking -" He ran after Jim, grabbing at his arm and then letting go when he stopped, "You killed him. You killed Powers! And now you're still trying to just lock yourself up and deal with it and I don't know what to fucking do to convince you that you don't need to do that anymore.”

Jim stopped as Sebastian grabbed his arm and swung him around to face him. “I didn’t want you to know. I — God Seb, I was so fucked up. I didn’t even mean to kill him, I don’t actually remember it. He just - one second I had him pinned and then the next thing I knew he wasn’t breathing anymore. I didn’t know what to think or what to do and so I kept it to myself until I could get control over the situation again.” He sneered and wrenched his arm away. “Do you see a fucking therapist around this hell hole? That’s the only way I know how to _deal_ with shit, and I’m fucking trying okay but it’s like there’s so much I’m trying not to think about too closely or I’ll fall apart and I can’t afford that right now! So yeah, I would love to be healthy about this and sing kumbaya around the fucking camp fire but I don’t know how to do that so I’m just going to stick a bandaid on it and hope it holds, is that okay with you?”

"Get a fucking grip." Sebastian growled at him, staring at him, heart pounding and then suddenly grabbing jim's shoulders and pulling him close, kissing hard at the edge of his jawline. He didn't know why - possibly because he wanted to hold Jim and this seemed marginally less suicidal than punching him. Maybe to just try and show that they still could be close. "Yeah well next time you're facing a fucker like that kill him on purpose, alright?" He growled low against Jim's jaw, "Forget Mags, forget fucking all of them. You need to kill someone, you kill them. You don't need to be healthy, you'll never be healthy, just be fucking in control, because you are.”

That wasn’t fair. Jim was trying, he was doing better than anyone he knew could. If it was Sebastian in his position, if he was sixteen and didn’t have his daddy to run to, he wouldn’t have been able to come out the other side of all the shit Jim had gone through in the last six months. He _had_ a grip, that’s what he was doing, he was controlling this situation. Sebastian didn’t have any right to criticize him. “I want you with me next time,” Jim growled as Sebastian kissed and bit at his jaw. “Don’t you fucking dare leave me alone.” He grabbed onto Sebastian’s shoulders and pushed him against the tree, kissing him back on the mouth and biting his tongue hard because Sebastian was an _asshole_ and he shouldn’t have said those things earlier.

Sebastian nodded frantically, moaning breathily as Jim pushed him against the tree, holding him tight and close in the hope that it might make everything start to be alright again, after the two of them shouting and arguing with each other. He knew that wasn't how things should be, and now things were slightly more alright, or just slightly less wrong, as Jim bit hard on his tongue and made him whimper, his hands sliding up under Jim's vest to touch skin. "W-won't, won't leave you alone. I'll be there, next time I'll be there and I'll hide the fucking body for you." He gasped back.

Jim wanted things to be alright, he needed it because Sebastian was about all he had in this world and he wasn’t going to let him go over some stupid argument. Yes, he’d been hurt physically and by Sebastian’s words but he was going to put it behind him. He kissed the other boy back frantically reaching around under his bottoms to grab at his arse as Jim rocked against him. He latched onto Sebastian’s neck, biting down and sucking at the skin there, determined to leave a mark.

Sebastian tilted his head back whimpering as he felt the biting and licking at his skin, his hands trembling and rubbing against Jim's skin and his cock hardening and rubbing against Jim's hip as he felt two little hands slide down and grip hard at his arse. "N-not going back to the barracks..." he gasped, "Not tonight. Not any night. 'S your bed still at John's? I'll move in there i-if you'll let me.”

“Yeah,” Jim gasped, groaning into the skin at Sebastian’s neck as the other boy rubbed his hard cock against Jim’s hip. It drove him crazy to see how quickly he could undo the other boy. “Yeah — shit. Lets go. You up for sneaking through the window?” Jim grinned at him in the dark.

"Shit yeah." Sebastian lifted Jim up, carrying him the last few strides to the medical centre, grinning in relief as he saw the lights were out. "Perfect, he's not up fucking sleeping, where did he stick your bed?" He knew Jim had his own room now, what with the foster-thing and he was suddenly very glad of it. The bathroom window opened easily enough as he banged his hand against the latch and he opened it, politely helping Jim up before scrambling in himself. "Do, uh, do you want to grab some condoms? I mean we don't need to and recovery and shit but... yeah. They're here.”

“I know.” Jim pushed Sebastian onto the bed and crawled on top of him. “I think — if it’s still okay, I think I want to fuck you.” Sebastian had offered a couple of times and Jim had just never felt ready but now he thought might be a good time to try at least. Jim crawled over him and kissed as his stomach as he pulled his shirt and pajamas off. The welts were still there, faded down to deep bruises but they were there. Jim wished they weren’t. He bit down on Sebastian’s hip bone to distract himself.

Sebastian blinked at him, his brain short circuiting and his mind scrabbling for something to say. He wanted it - desperately and deeply, but he was also terrified that he'd say the wrong things, terrified he'd send one or both of them into a panic or a reminder of the Sergeant's apartment. He nodded, desperate a quick, moaning as Jim bit down on his hip and then rolling over, sliding his pyjama trousers down just over his arse and giving a nervous sort of huff of air. Everything he'd seen and heard up to this moment lead him to believe it would hurt - but he was pretty high and even more tanked on the thought of Carl's murder, and Jim actually fucking him. "Yeah. Go on. Fuck of course it's okay.”

“Uh — yeah. Okay.” Jim had never done this before and it seemed less natural to him than some of the other things they’d done because he was most passive in that. This involved taking the lead and not just topping from the bottom but actually topping. Jim fumbled around in his end table for the lube but changed his mind before he spread any on his hand. “Hold still,” Jim muttered as he placed both hands on Sebastian’s cheeks, spreading them a little and he bent forward to give a tentative lick to Sebastian’s arse. It felt kind of stupid, but it was something that they’d shown Jim at the house, he knew it felt good… it was just weird! If it felt good to Sebastian then Jim would find his feet but stepping out and trying new things didn’t automatically inspire him with confidence.

Sebastian wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, maybe just Jim's cock, hard and painful and uncompromising, but the sudden wet stripe against the most sensitive part of his body had him buckling, hot and eager, with a moan of surprised pleasure and suddenly not enough of his skin was available. His hands fumbled his trousers down as far as he could and his face turned to look back at Jim, "Fucking... yes... do that again, god…"

Sebastian bucked against Jim’s mouth, hitting him in the face and he gave his arse a smack in retaliation. “I thought I told you to stay still?” Jim felt a lot less silly though, when his mouth obviously made him feel so good. He tried to think back and remember the technique used without horribly triggering himself. When Sebastian had his trousers all the way down Jim tried again, spreading his cheeks and moving his tongue between them in a circular motion, not penetrating him yet, just testing the waters. He licked the back of his balls and the skin between, trying to work out what felt good and what didn’t. He would pause to bite his arse, since Jim already knew that Sebastian liked that.

Sebastian shuddered and bucked again under the slap, and Jim's comanding little voice - half tempted to do it again but the licking teasing tongue felt so good that he didn't want to do anything to stop it. His hands grasped and fumbled at the sheets, his arse squirming around underneath as wet hot tongue movements and sharp little bites made his brain melt to pieces inside his head. He let out little moans and whimpers as Jim seemed to be on a mission to find every piece of tingly sensitive little skin and stimulate it to an intense pleasure. It was not at all what he'd been expecting - it was several thousand times better than he could have imagined.

Jim had always known that pleasuring others, watching them come apart in his hands was what got him off, more than anything. Seeing Sebastian moan and withe underneath him was something and he was hard even though no one was touching him. Finally when Jim felt like he’d done enough exploring he pressed his tongue inside curiously, moving it around and trying to work out how to do it so that it would feel good.

Sebastian half collapsed with a low eager moan as the wet clever tongue was wriggling inside him - and while part of him felt awkward and strangely embarrassed it was far too good for him to want to stop. Little desperate noises came out of him, his only real regret was that he couldn't touch Jim, and kill him all over, and tell him how completely fucking wonderful he was, because right now Sebastian's body was utterly taken over. Tingling little lingering bite-marks, the two hands with sharp little nails pressing his arse apart, and Jim's tongue rewriting the script between them. He didn't even care if John heard - might give the drunken sad bastard something to wank over.

Jim pulled away after a few minutes of that, Sebastian was already having difficulty holding himself up, he didn’t want the other boy to come too early. Instead he busied himself with the lube, spreading it over his fingers and making sure it was suitably warm. “I’m going to put my fingers in now — tell me if it hurts, that means I’m doing something wrong.” Jim remembered the only experience Sebastian had with penetration was the sergeant pressing a dry finger in there… and potentially Sebastian did the same when he masturbated but Jim hoped that this would be a little different. He pressed a single finger in, not spending too long on that because his fingers were well lubricated. He started working it in and out and when he thought the other boy was ready he added another one, scissoring them apart and twisting to open Sebastian up.

"C-could you try to sound less like a fucking _Doctor?"_ Sebastian managed to pant as Jim's fingers pressed inside, moaning and pressing up as Jim's fingers pressed down inside him, "N-not that I'm complaining but you know, I'd rather imagine my fucking hot wonderful psycho little boyfriend about to fuck me up rather than damn Watson giving me a prostate exam - unh..." The second finger made him pant, stretching muscles unused to it, but fuck it felt amazing. As well as not painful at all. "If I want you to stop you'll damn well know about it. In case you can't tell - you know - you've missed the fucking subtle little signs I'm giving off, I do not damn well want you to stop.”

“The thought of John giving you a prostate exam gets you off, hmm? Not as fucked up as Cyric anyway.” Jim’s voice was light and teasing but he was happy to get back at the other boy. “So does that mean you think I’m boring? Because it certainly does sound like you are complaining.” Jim added a third finger, being more careful with that one and searching around for the boy’s prostate.

"Oh for fucks sake - days that end in Y get me horny, you know that..." Sebastain grumbled, rather wishing Jim hadn't mentioned Cyric. Not because it made things worse, but because the thought of the sneering dominant man if anything turned things up a bit of another notch - at least he could focus on the fact it was very much Jim behind him, controlling all the pleasure he was feeling "Unh ... n-not complaining, f-fuck, never - com - Jesus!" He yelped and squirmed his arse back for more as Jim managed to find somewhere inside him that made his insides clench and shiver. There were three fingers in him now, and while it wasn't painful it was stretching just at the edge of discomfort - a teasing, aching, zone that made him hesitate between begging for less or begging for more.

“Well your prostate works,” Jim teased. “I could just get you off like this. I wouldn’t even have to fuck you, you could come without anyone touching your cock.” He still planned on fucking the other boy but it was fun to wind him up. He continued to massage Sebastian’s prostate relentlessly now that he’d worked out where it was.

Sebastian gave a hitched little whine, the three fingered stretch was almost unbearable now - and coupled with the relentless pressing inside him meant he had to grip hard at the covers to stop from cumming, one leg twitching out, "Unh... you little fucking shit..." he gasped out - not even thinking about the words. The small part of his brain that wasn't melting hoped desperately that Jim would see them for what they were - the first time he'd been able to join in spontaneously while losing so much control in sex - to curse and snap and not get knocked down for it. "God next time I get hold of you you'll be walking funny for weeks, unhhhh…"

Jim smirked and gave his arse another slap. “Language, you should be more polite to me, I think. I could leave you here now, a gasping and shuddering mess and there’s nothing you could do about it. I think it would be a fitting punishment for pulling my hair and yelling at me.” He bent down to kiss and mouth as Sebastian’s spine, letting him know that he didn’t mean it and that he wasn’t angry. “I look forward to it. You’ll have to catch me first though and I’m pretty fast.” Jim pulled his fingers out and paused for a minute, “do you — do you want to do it without a condom? I’ve gotten my tests back, I’m negative for HIV. All I’ve got is the Hep B and you’re immune. We don’t have to, I know it’s not good to, we should use a condom anyway. It’s just I don’t know how long I’ll be able to — you know, stay clean or be just with you so… I want to. But I want to make sure that’s okay. And that you aren’t just going to say yes because you want my cock.” Jim grinned.

Sebastian moaned deep into his mouth, grabbing the back of his head to deepen the kiss, his arse tingling with the handprint, "W-wouldn't be a fair punishment at all..." He moaned as they broke apart, "'nd of course I'll say yes to get your cock, right now I'd say fucking anything to get your cock but... first time would be nice... we-we don't know how long you'll be definitely clean for..." He hesitated, hating the words even as they came out and twisting to grip onto any part of Jim he could find, "R-really am sorry, didn't mean to yell at you. It was... I know... it was best, what you did, just... fuck please, first time I want to feel you, not some damn plastic... and don't you want to see how my arse feels? This is my fucking virginity we're talking about, s'only going to happen once.”

“Dunno, we did my virginity twice, sort of.” Jim reminded him. He agreed with the assessment though so he left the condoms where they were and just started to slick himself up instead. “I know you were upset, we’ll talk about it later if you want. Right now I just want you to feel good… Okay…” Jim gave his arse a pinch and then slowly started to push in, wary, because he _did_ remember his first time and how much that had hurt. He wanted it to feel good so he’d used a lot of lube and was taking his time. “How - oh fuck me… how does that feel?” Jim wasn’t having the easiest time with self control at the moment but he did stop inside of Sebastian to check in and make sure he was ready before moving in earnest.

"You still sound like a fucking Doctor..." Sebastian grumbled, but in a way it was nice to have the constant (if irritating) questions and explanations. Certainly nicer than having his head shoved down and told to get the fuck on with it. Briefly, and fleetingly, he felt a small lump of sadness that he would never experience that from the Sergeant again, and never even get it from Cyric, before his sanity returned and everything was Jim again and wonderful. "Fuck's sake can't you damn well tell how I feel?" He complained, trying to rut himself back, "You want to hear it, that it? You want to hear, 'oh yes Jim it feels amazing fuck me, Jim please, fuck me.' Guhhh..." His hands grabbed at the sheets and he gave a hiss, "Just fucking get on with it before I kill you.”

“Maybe I’ll become one then,” Jim snapped back giving a little thrust of his hips. “Yeah alright well we’ve done the whole ‘let’s not check in’ thing and I got a condom thrown in my face and I couldn’t walk for a week so I’m going to check in, damn it.” He grinned though and rubbed a hand over Sebastian’s arse as he started moving in and out of him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want to hear. You’re fucking gorgeous like this. So good for me.”

"That was because _you_ were a prat, yes, not because I was being all stoic and letting you - FUCK." The thrust bottomed out inside him, his arse feeling achy and stretched, stinging a little but each sting throbbed right down to his hard leaking cock. He gave a little whine at Jim's words, part of him slightly hating how much they did for him, his arse being stroked and gently squeezed while Jim told him how good he was being, "I - I didn't fuck up did I, well just a little bit yeah?" He gasped desperately, pleased it was easier to say to a pillow, "D-didn't mean too, fuck to shout at you like that... unh... oh god... fuck you feel amazing..." He was suddenly incredibly glad they weren't using condoms, that he could feel the slick hard flesh against him, the flaring ache in his arse dying down as Jim kept moving slowly.

“Oh? And if I _was_ hurting you you wouldn’t go all stoic on me, hmmm?” Jim continued to move his hips in and out, feeling his orgasm start to pool slowly in his gut. It felt amazing and he knew that he’d come embarrassingly soon, which might be for the best considering Sebastian was about ready to pop before they even started properly. Sue him, he hadn’t gotten off in a week. And he’d never felt anything this good before, except maybe Sebastian’s mouth.

"You. Would. Probably. Be able. To tell." Sebastian managed to gasp out between moans. His eyes closed tight, body jerking and he bit his lip before moaning out, "F-fuck... fuck I'm going to cum. Move. Fucking move. At least get something going before I finish it all." His face flushed, the red spreading round his shoulders and halfway down the spine of his back. Cumming so fast might be embarrassing, but he had Jim inside him and all around him and his arse was on fire in a number of new and exciting ways, not to mention the hard little cock was starting to rub against his prostate. How was he meant to resist all that? "A-and we need to do this again as many times as possible while we still can without a condom." He managed to yelp.

“I want you inside me too — without the condom,” Jim panted, doing as Seb asked and hammering his hips forward harder. Just hearing Sebastian moaning, feeling him tighten around him and begging Jim to move and telling him he was about to come was enough to set Jim off with his orgasm rapidly approaching. He moaned in response, snapping his hips forward, losing himself in the heat and friction of Sebastian’s body as he came inside of him, taking the moment to savor that because he didn’t know how many times that would happen in their lives.

"Yesssss...." Sebastian hissed in respose, the harder thrusts and the thought of taking Jim's delicious little arse without the condom more than enough to have him cumming with a whimper, gasping and twitching, clinging onto the sheets below and letting out a pained whine as the object in his arse suddenly became hard, and pulsing and then uncomfortably tight against his shivering muscles while he came down, "Owch, fuck, get it out, fuck..." He panted hard, rolling over and enveloping Jim in both his arms, flushing at the feel of the cum slipping out of him, "Look at that, look what you've done to my arse. Fucked it open and filled it with cum... fuck…"

Jim had been about to fall into a doze, feeling the warm rush of endorphins that had been so missed lately when Sebastian started to yelp and Jim pulled away quickly, checking him over and then realizing what had happened. “Oh. Right. Yeah, when you’re fucking me your stamina is a blessing a curse. It just gets — well, you know now.” Their relationship felt more equal now somehow, now that they both had shared experiences. Sebastian had him wrapped up in his arms and Jim was ready to pass out he had been tired before but now he was exhausted. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to eat it out of your arse.” Jim gave his nipple a little pinch and then settled in closer to him. “I’ll do laundry tomorrow. We can get our stuff, move it in here.”

"Ah fuck you, I know I hurt you by mistake, probably more than once." Sebastian muttered into his skin, hugging him closer and giving a sad little yowl as his nipple was tweaked, "Yeah, I'll move in, definitely. Fuck what Mags says, there's sod all he can do about it anyway. And he might be happy to know you've got someone looking after you. Maybe. Maybe not." He kissed Jim's face and then cuddled him tight, more than happy to go back to sleep after blowing his mind out so completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Discussions of murder and suicide


	11. This Summer is Going to be a Fucking Breeze

They moved into what was formerly John’s office, much to the relief of Victor and to John’s chagrin. It was so good for Jim, having a space mostly to himself, having somewhere he could get away from the stares and whispers. If people were treating him strangely after Carl died it was nothing to the way they treated him after Sebastian fucking yelled about it in the middle of the night. His classmates regarded him with intense suspicion and outright fear to an extent, no one bullied him anymore, no one spoke to him anymore. This fostered a deeper codependence on Sebastian. They were having sex probably three or four times a week depending on how tired they were from classes and morning exercises. On the weekends there were no responsibilities besides homework, Jim was doing much better in his classes now that he didn’t have to wrestle with two sets of homework, and they could spend all day in bed if they wanted to. Magnussen hadn’t contacted him, until now in the final weeks of school before summer holidays. Jim felt rested, like he’d been able to take the pieces his life had fallen into and weld them back together. It wasn’t great, and there was certainly still signs of trauma, but nothing new was being heaped on. Jim could focus on recovering a little before Magnussen threw him to the wolves. He was sitting in the man’s office now, feeling some of that old anxiety coming back. He could handle it though. He didn’t have any bruises on his body, except the ones Sebastian put there on purpose, and emotionally he was in much better shape. Those tapes were still heavy on his mind now, but he’d been trying not to focus on them while he was resting up.

The term had been pretty much epic from Sebastian's point of view - even if he sometimes missed the old friendships he'd had with the boys in the class. Those were blown completely out of the water now - he was ignored as much as Jim was, particularly given he spent all of his time with Jim. They seemed to be trying to make up for all the hiding and lack of sex they'd had before, because now they were at it like bunnies, and Sebastian surfed through the end of the term on a wave of endorphin highs and happy orgasms - tingling soreness in his muscles and arse that complimented each other so well. It was a bit of a downer having to watch Jim head off to Magnussen's office at the end of it, and he headed to the training ground, going through his routine over and over waiting for Jim to walk out again.

Magnussen arrived late, looking up with a nod as he saw Jim waiting inside for him, coming over and briefly fondling his hair almost absentmindedly. "Good, good, had a good term? You and Moran are very close now, that works well, you'll be going back with him during the break. Then..." he reached behind his desk and pulled out a small manilla folder, handing it over, "There you go my little Irish James Bond. I even put together a folder for you! His name is Holmes, you've met him once before. Mycroft Holmes. I want you to visit him, Moran will take you, keep tabs on him for me. Let me know who he talks to, ideally what he says. And, if you can, keep his brother away from rehab. I need both of them.”

Jim’s mouth popped open a little as he stared blankly at Magnussen, trying to get his brain to filter these new sets of instruction. “Yes, sir. You know that’s going to be difficult, I assume. Mycroft doesn’t like me, I had a — well I spent some time with his brother over Christmas so I have a way in with that but it hardly endeared me to Mycroft. Moreover, he’s not fond of Sebastian either so I’m not sure how many visits I can realistically arrange but I’ll bring you something, that’s a promise.” This was fucking perfect, Mycroft was going to have a field day. Jim was worried in the back of his mind that this was some kind of trap, that Magnussen knew about his relationship with Mycroft and was going to catch him in the act of giving him false information or whatever Mycroft gave him.

Magnussen raised an eyebrow, and nodded, "Moran's father will arrange the first meeting, it's up to you to arrange the next. It's good that you know Sherlock already, you know, you don't even have to come to visit Mycroft. Visit his brother. You just need to be in the house, or the place where he leaves information around. Bring me what you can, if it's good enough... who knows.”

“Sherlock will be my in then, that’s not difficult, all I’ve got to do is piss around and share his coke.” He huffed an incredulous laugh, “‘who knows?’ No no no no no no no… I want to know exactly what you are offering me in exchange for good information.”

"Oh I'm sure you do." Magnussen answered shaking his head with a little tutting noise. "I'm _sure_ you do. And it is in some ways I suppose, reassuring that Cyric did not beat all of the attitude out of you. But it is also a little annoying. I have left you alone all term, I have let you fuck your pet Moran, I haven't had you harmed, or bullied, I've even kept your father away." Sighing he reached into his top desk drawer and took out a USB stick, spinning it across the table. "You are far too clever for your own good. There you go. There is now only one copy left. I will keep it... for now.”

“How is he, by the way?” Jim asked cordially, he was hoping to pay a visit to Cyric over the summer holidays but he hadn’t exactly worked out how he could do it while getting away with it. Jim snatched up the USB, trying to remember the last place he saw John’s laptop lying around. “You’ve been very… generous. I’ll be looking forward to bringing you the information that you want, then we can talk about that other copy.” Jim stood, more than happy to keep the meeting short. He needed to call Mycroft and Jim was determined to watch whatever footage was on the USB. He needed to know what Magnussen had.

"We will talk about the other copy." Magnussen promised by way of an answer, standing up and letting Jim out of the door, pausing before he'd opened it wide enough to say gently, "Cyric is well on the road to recovery, and understands that touching you in such a bad way was very naughty of him. He asked you to send his regards along to Sebastian.”

Jim just nodded stiffly, wanting to go off but he held his temper in check. First thing he did when he got back to John's was snatch up John’s cellphone and call Mycroft. The USB could wait. “Hello?” Jim said when Mycroft picked up. “I’ve got my next mark for Magnussen. It’s you, and your brother. My orders all to tell him who you are meeting, what you say, just anything I can get my hands on. And I’m meant to be keeping Sherlock out of rehab.”

There was a slightly tense silence on the other end of the phone before Mycroft said, clipped and polished, "Good. That's very good - we can definitely work around that." There was the edge of suspicion in his voice as well, not sure whether this was a trap by Mags, a trap by Jim and Mags, or something even more sophisticated, but for now he was willing to take it at face value. "I was so sad to hear of the... unfortunate passing away of the boy who was bullying you, however John assures me you've got over it and I'm please you had a more pleasant end of term. You'll be able to get your hands on plenty of things and I assure you my brother... will not be an issue.”

“Wonderful, I’ll just piss around with Sherlock all day and you can give me what I need.” This was going to be easy. Jim scowled a little when Mycroft mentioned Carl, wondering how much he knew, but he’d faced his fair share of suspicion this semester, he was used to it. “I should tell you too, Magnussen has video of me from my time in the London house. He’s not threatened to upload it to the internet or anything but he does have it. He’s given me a copy, I’m about to watch it so I know exactly what he has on me. The reward for finishing this job is his master copy.”

"That sounds like an ideal arrangement." Mycroft said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, tired. "Let me know if there's anything especially incriminating on the USB - please check there's no mention of me or any link to myself being connected to John. If I were you I'd destroy it afterwards, but do what you need to, it's your buisiness not mine. I - well - I expect I will see you during the holidays.”

“I’m quite certain that nothing incriminating, besides the obvious, is on the tapes but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out. I’ll see you during the holidays.” Jim hung up and put the phone away, sitting down at John’s desk and pulling out his laptop. It was password protected, but really, the code was his favorite brand of whiskey, John was not fooling anyone. Jim stuck in the USB and waited for it to load then he clicked the first file. There were about five, some were larger and longer than others. He clicked the first one and tried to keep his breathing even and face blank as he watched the first attack at the house, the sergeant set the camera down so that he could help subdue Jim and he watched himself be beaten senseless. Then he was tied off to the bed and — there was a buzzing in his ears, Jim wondered dully if there was something wrong with the audio, his hands were shaking and — huh. He hadn’t remembered that happening. They were all touching him and… Jim looked up sharply as he heard footsteps and he snapped the computer shut, cutting off the cursing and lewd noises from the computer.

Sebastian hadn't seen what had been on the screen, but he'd heard enough as he was appoaching, enough to hurry his speed and burst through the door, hesitating as he saw just Jim, unharmed and alone, sitting in front of the laptop like a puppy that had just widdled on the carpet. For several hundred years Sebastian stood there, looking at the laptop, and then he gave a nervous sort of nod. "Yeah. Good. Got it - got it off him. Could - yeah well I suppose you have to watch my bit... just, don't think too fucking badly of me yeah? It was a weird fucked up day." He stared helplessly at the laptop for a few hundred more years and then said quietly, "I'd rather not watch it - I mean I will if you need me to, or hell if you want me to but... rather not.”

“I’m just relieved you didn’t think I was watching porn.” Jim’s hands were shaking and he stood, pushing the laptop away for now, to wrap his arms tightly around Sebastian’s waist. “Ugh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Jesus.” He took in a ragged breath, watching that, even just half of one video had been so much harder than he thought it would be. He wasn’t worried about Sebastian’s parts, Jim was already mostly aware of what he would see. “No, you’re not watching. And all I’ve got is a copy. He has the master still. I just — need to know what he has on me, you know?”

"Yeah." Sebastian held him as Jim gripped onto him, and stroked Jim's hair gently, "Don't - if you don't want to don't. Just concentrate on getting that last copy and destroying it, then it won't matter what the fuck was on the damn things." He was, admittedly, partly motivated for selfish reasons. He didn't want Jim seeing how much he'd loved being with the Sergeant, until the final moments. He didn't want to think of Jim knowing how easy he'd been, how eager to please and easy to use. And of course he didn't want anyone privy to the last moments him and Cyric had had in the cellar together, when he'd been locked in alone and completely broken apart, crying and sobbing while Cyric called him a cheap cunt whore and laid out in detail that Sebastian couldn't quite remember just what else he'd be subjected to. And for a horrifying moment he'd almost believed it - that Jim had abandoned him and that he was stuck there.

It was horribly horribly tempting but Jim was determined to get through it now that he had started. “I — you can help me. Come here. You don’t have to watch.” Jim grabbed the laptop and a pair of headphones, settling down on the couch with the laptop on the coffee table. “Will you just sit here, with me? While I watch?” It would be easier to be alone, if he did something embarrassing, but Sebastian could keep him grounded. “You can do homework or something if you want to, but I would appreciate it if you would be here.”

Watching Jim watching without being able to see rather seemed like the worst of both worlds, but Sebastian forced a grin and then, hesitating, sat down on the couch next to him, turning so he was facing away with his back resting against Jim's shoulder. "It'll be easier without sound, if you did need me to hold you, or to be in my lap or whatever." He murmured, taking out his homework and scowling at it. He knew, _knew,_ that there was no way he'd be able to concentrate on a single thing with Jim next to him watching his own torture, but he had to distract himself some way.

“Need the sound,” Jim breathed. “I need to make sure there’s no mention of Mycroft.” He sat through all of it, frozen still as a statue. Jim had a very good memory normally but he’d disassociated for the majority of his time there, he’d been severely hurt and hadn’t slept much, it was mostly a blur by this point. Watching it ripped those wounds right open. There was something deeply unnerving about watching himself being hurt and tortured and raped and realizing that he didn’t remember that thing happening or he didn’t remember being fucked there, or had that guy really joined in? It was unsettling and triggering to realize that he couldn’t trust his own recollections. Jim had to turn it off before the toilet brush video, just to take a break and get some water. When he came back he skipped that one and watched Sebastian’s instead. It was about what he expected and of course it made him fucking angry but he couldn’t deal with that right now. There was no mention of Mycroft. He went back to the scene in the bathroom, his body shook hard but he watched it until finally it was done. He stood abruptly, put the laptop down and pulled out his headphones before heading to the bathroom where he was violently ill.

"I meant easier for me..." Sebastian muttered, and, true enough, he got no work done at all. How could he, with Jim's frozen little body next to him, occasionally twitching, never making a sound. Part of him rather wished Jim would - cry or scream or something, but instead he was still as a statue. Only once did he peek over and the sight, Cyric's face smirking excitedly as he forced a gag into Jim's mouth, instantly banished all Cyric-related fantasies from his mind, probably never to return. He followed Jim to the bathrooms, coming over as he was sick and gently running his hand through Jim's short hair, hesitating in case Jim didn't want to be touched right now. "Do you... need some time? Some space?" He breathed, "Or just to be held.”

“Ugh…” Speaking was difficult, keeping himself present and aware of where he was felt impossible, but Jim needed to try. He finished getting sick and flushed the toilet. “He — Mags, touched himself. He watched _that_ and me and he — ugh.” Jim dry heaved over the toilet again but nothing came up. “Can you meet me back in the living room? I just need a minute.” Somehow he had felt okay at the time, while it was happening he’d just been so angry and determined to fight. On the other side of it though, when he’d really started to do some healing, it was worse somehow to watch it than experience it. He couldn’t remember much of the experience, watching had full sound, every detail permanently recorded. He rinsed out his mouth with mouthwash, and then went to his room, grabbing his comforter off the bed and heading back to the living room. Jim wrapped it tightly around himself and curled up on top of Sebastian, hair barely sticking out at the top. “You — your fine. In your video. I felt angry watching, that they treated you like that, but that’s it. I accept you for who you are, warts and all.”

Sebastian hesitated and then murmured gently "He told you he touched himself. That doesn't mean he did. He told you the thing he mostly knew would freak you out and panic you." Giving a very small smile he left, collapsing back onto the sofa and throwing his unstarted work down over the back of it, scowling at John's laptop, looking ugly and horrible sat there unaware of what it had just shown. He wrapped his arms around Jim's comforter as the boy sat on his lap, sighing and shaking his head. "I do not have warts. Just fucked up issues with people making me feel worthwhile.”

“It’s a metaphor you idiot, if you had genital warts, I would know.” He sighed and tried to focus on being logical but it was so difficult when his brain all at once was screaming at him and bogged down in a kind of hopeless apathy. “I need to decide if I should destroy it or not. Might be useful, down the line. I don’t want anyone else to see it though, ever.” It was warm wrapped up in the blankets he pressed his nose against Sebastian’s neck, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Just get rid of it." Sebastian murmured unhappily next to him, knowing that he was going to be wondering forever now what was on that tape, both wanting and not wanting to see both how much Jim had been through and also remind himself fully of what Cyric had done to him. The thought that Cyric was in hospital didn't do much for him, the man would get out and besides, Sebastian wanted to be the one to lay the blows into him, to leave him screaming and damaged. He wrapped an arm around Jim, holding him tight, "Just get rid of it. Then get the other one and destroy that.”

Jim made an unhappy conflicted noise but nodded, “I’ll… think about it. I don’t want to make an impulsive decision. I keep thinking I could use it — get them all put in fucking prison but fuck all that’s going to do with Mags still in power.” He tucked his face into the blankets, feeling like he was about to cry and didn’t want Sebastian to see but in the end he didn’t manage and his eyes stayed dry. “I’m fucking desperate. I’d do anything for that master copy. He might not even give it to me, or tell me it’s the master when it’s not. Mags specializes in blackmail I can’t imagine he’s just going to give up a big part of his leverage…” Jim took a breath and sighed out, “You decide what you want done with your video. You have a significantly better chance of getting a legal resolution because of your da. Just something to think about.” 

Sebastian hesitated and then hugged Jim tighter, stroking the back of his hair. "Fuck Mags and fuck his stupid blackmail. We'll steal it. And if we can't steal it, we'll set his fucking room on fire. Playing by his rules just fucks us both up. You keep out of it, he can kill you if you misbehave, I'll just get expelled. I'll get in there when he's next away on buisiness and tear the place apart until I find it, how about that?”

Jim smiled a little, shaking his head. “Even if he knows it’s you and expels you he can still kill me for it, he’s not stupid, he’ll figure out that it was me that told you to do it. I don’t want to play by his rules but it feels less suicidal than outright disobedience.” He pressed his face against Sebastian’s jaw and tried to calm his shaking. “God damn I am a fucking embarrassment. I got my next target by the way. The Holmes boys. I’m staying with you during the summer.”

Sebastian wrapped both arms around Jim, holding him tight as he shivered and shook and feeling pretty bloody useless. "You didn't tell me too..." He murmured, brightening up as the Holmes's were mentioned, "Good. I don't trust that Mycroft any further than I can throw him, but I at least know he's not going to try and get in your pants. Or his skinny brother..." He hesitated as he saw John walk into the room and gave a cheeky grin, "You know, Sherlock Holmes. In your pants. Hmm?”

“Been there, done that. Kind of. He’s interesting but not exactly the randiest person I know. That would be you just in case you needed that clarified.” Jim lightened up a little and then winced when John came in. “Err — sorry. We weren’t talking about having sex with your boyfriend, I promise. Rather the opposite actually. ’S all good.” He still looked pale and fucking traumatized but Jim was trying to joke and put on a brave face.

"He's not my boyfriend..." John sighed, trying to sound firm rather than disappointed about the fact. "You can talk about whatever you want... are you alright?" He added more gently realising that Jim looked awful and shaken and shooting Sebastian a suspicious glance. "You haven't been... attacked or anything?”

Jim thought it was probably prudent not to mention to John that part of Jim’s job was to keep Sherlock out of rehab, which to be fair, sounded like he wasn’t going to have a lot of resistance to that. Still, best not bring it up. “Mmm, no. Not recently anyway. Mags gave me a new job and a copy of the video from my spring break. Did you know there was video? Shit sorry I can’t keep track of who knows what anymore. Anyway, it exists, I had to watch it to make sure that there was no evidence of the relationship between you and Mycroft… sorry I borrowed your laptop, here…” Jim was rambling but he sat up and pulled the USB from the computer and unattached the headphones. “All yours.”

"The video..." John looked blankly at the laptop and gave a small shudder at the thought of what was on it. "Right. You... alright. Just if you need to stay off school for a bit or anything, let me know."

"I'll be staying here now." Sebastian said, a little warningly when John looked up, "No it's going to happen. I don't care what you say or Mags says. Jim is staying here in his room and I'll moving in with him. Then when terms over he's coming back to my house.”

* * *

 

 

Magnussen kept an eye on Jim, even if he was happy to leave him alone for the rest of the term, but the day before the school broke up he headed to Moriarty Sr.'s hut, knocking on the door and then pressing it open with splayed fingers, stepping inside and looking around, "James?" He caught sight of the man and looked at him, "How are you doing? Have you been keeping an eye on your son? He's been rutting with the Moran boy almost every night, but little Jimmy still is my agent. My agents need to be able to work without things getting... complicated.”

Moriarty glanced up as Magnussen pushed his way in, closing up his laptop and frowning. Sometimes he fucking hated his boss and the way he poked you just to get a reaction. What he really hated was that he couldn’t poke back. It took a moment to get his temper over the comments about his son’s sex life under control but when he did he smiled widely. “What do you want me to do about that?”

"I don't care, really I don't, if your son bends over for every posh fuck in this country." Magnussen continued, stalking closer until his fingers were resting on Moriarty's laptop, "I don't care if he lets Moran open him up and fuck him like a little bitch while he begs for more. But over this holiday he has to focus his attentions elsewhere and not concentrate on that creature pawing at him. Tell Moran to back off. Did I even show them the video, hmm, of him and Cyric? No I don't think I did. But rest assured if he doesn't allow your son to put out for the right people there will be consequences. For both of them.”

Moriarty clenched his jaw but nodded stiffly, still not breaking under his temper. “I thought you said he is going after the Holmes brothers? ‘Put out for the right people?’ For that limp dick? The fuck is he going to bend over for, Mycroft’s umbrella? You told me this wasn’t that kind of job.” Moriarty didn’t care if Jim was passed around like a whore, he rather agreed with Mags’ sentiments on the matter, what he didn’t like was the man throwing it in his face to try and get a rise. “Yeah, fine, I’ll talk to the Moran brat. Not sure it’s going to help anything. He’s obstinate.”

"I thought you could tame obstinate boys?" Magnussen's eyebrows rose, "I thought that was your speciality. Your failings regarding your son are not my concerns, neither are his methods for getting to Mycroft." He knew Jim was unlikely to be fucked by either of the Holmes's but also knew it was a good way to annoy his father. "Just make sure he lets Jimmy work, that's all I'm asking. This is an important job, and I'll be very annoyed if it doesn't work out because your little brat is too busy being filled by Moran's cock.”

“You’d just better hope it goes better than his last job did.” Moriarty warned. He knew something had been up with Carl’s death, it reeked of foul play but his biases against his son and his certainty of his weakness didn’t allow him to entertain the notion that Jim could have killed Carl. “Yes, I’m good at what I do but short of cutting off his cock I can’t guarantee you anything. I’ll make sure he gets the message though. That one’ll bend if he thinks he’s helping Jimmy.”

"Then it is your job to make him... bend." Magnussen gave a little smile but his eyes were cold. "Don't disappoint me, I need to find some use for you now.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sebastian headed up to Moriarty's with a sense of growing unease, knocking on the door and trying to work out why Darren had sent him. Darren hadn't been too bad over the last few months, just getting on with his job, helping Seb train. Seb had been staying silent and sulky in Moriarty's classes and he wondered if he was in trouble.

“Come in.” Moriarty was pleased that the boy had knocked, whatever lip he gave him was probably mostly for show. Moran looked nervous and that made him very happy. “We’re here to talk about Magnussen’s whore. My employer wanted me to make it clear to you that he’s only on loan. He’ll be staying with you this summer but that doesn’t mean he’s been rented to you as your personal come hole, do you understand? He is there to work and if you hinder him — whether he’s too tired for you or he’s busy or he’s sucking Mycroft’s dick under his desk at his office you’ll let him get on with it.”

"What, what whore?" Sebastian stared at him in confusion before growling under his breath as it hit him what Moriarty was saying and he took a step forward, clenching his fists and pleased he was taller than Moriarty, "Alright, you shut the fuck up about him right there. He's no whore, and if you don't want a slap you'll take that back." His nervousness increased even as he barked the words out, "Yes he'll be staying with me, and no he won't be my personal cum hole, he'll be my lover and if you have a problem with that, hell maybe you're jealous you don't get a cock up you more often, then there's sweet fuck all you can do about it. If Mycroft even tries any of that shite on I'll have words with him myself.”

Moriarty couldn’t believe that it had actually taken Sebastian time to realize who he was talking about. The boy tried to intimidate him but Moriarty could not be intimidated, especially by some green boy. He could take a punch and besides that he had a taser in his back pocket that he was just itching to use. “Oh of course he’s not, all of the sex he’s been having on Magnussen’s orders is just for funsies, my mistake.” Moriarty sneered, irritated that the boy insisted on being obtuse. “You will let the boy do what he needs to and you won’t get in the way. Please remember what Magnussen has on you, on the both of you. Did you know he runs a sexual services branch to his business, any kind of work you could imagine. It would be an easy thing for him to get your little video made and sold to the masses. If your boyfriend becomes recognizable in such a high profile way then there would be very few options left to him in Magnussen’s employ. You don’t want to push him to that, do you?”

The thought of anyone else seing the video bought him up short. He was pretty sure Jim could change his name and vanish, but that didn't matter, what mattered was the thought that there would be people out there watching Jim going through that, and jerking off to it. Sebastian snarled and grabbed the front of Moriarty's jacket with a terrified thrill, "Yeah, yeah, I'll let him get on with his job. How long before Mags values him more than you, yeah? Because when he does, you're going to go down so hard it'll fucking impale you. And he doesn't just have sex on Mags's orders, don't you worry.”

James laughed loudly in Sebastian’s face, “The day that I become less valuable to Magnussen than a common whore is the day that he blows my brains out.” He was glad to see Sebastian hesitate for once in his life and think. It had played out the way he’d anticipated. His son had some intelligence, James would give him that. But he’d gotten that intelligence from his father who was also strong and ruthless. There was no change of Jim ever becoming more valuable to his boss than he was. “Really? How do you know that he doesn’t let you fuck him on his orders? You’ll never know for sure that it’s not an act to keep you in line. At the very least that’s how it started out, wasn’t it? You were so fucking eager for it you couldn’t even tell that he didn’t want you.”

"I know it's not an act." Sebastian gave a smug grin, despite everything, and let go of Moriarty's jacket, patting it gently, "I guess you'll never understand why or how, because you always pay for it and despise the whores who give it to you. Tell Mags not to worry, he'll get the job done, and I'll wait patiently until he's finished." He grinned, still close and up in Magnusen's face, "You know - it isn't just me ploughing him." He continued in a companionable voice. If he couldn't make Moriarty angry he could at least disgust him a little, "He does me as well you know. Fucks me hard till I'm begging to cum. We should do it in here one day." He looked around the room, "One day when you're out pissing around on some job for Mags. Have sex on every surface. Maybe even in your bed.”

He almost rolled his eyes at Sebastian’s petty taunts but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “That’s all I ask. I’m glad that we could come to an understanding.” James raised an eyebrow and smirked, “Whatever fantasies you have about me and my possessions I promise you that your boyfriend does not share them.” He sat down at his desk and waved Sebastian away, “You may leave.”

Sebastian looked at him for a brief pause, knowing he shouldn't take the bait but not really wanting to just be dismissed like a schoolboy, instead he looked around, picking a few items that were hanging from the wall and idly dropping them, "Yeah, yeah. You know, I did used to admire you. I know you don't give a shit about my admiration but I really did used to think you were the serious shit. You were strong, scary, able to control with just a word. Now you're reduced to telling your son's boyfriend how much they're allowed to fuck. Bit of a come-down, surely?”

“I still get up to plenty of scary serious shit Moran, don’t you worry. Just be glad that Mags had me tell you and didn’t do it himself. He likes to piss on people when he makes them promise to behave. Now get out.”

Sebastian looked at him with a frown and then started to smirk, "Oh my god - he's pissed on you, hasn't he. You've let Charles Magnussen piss on you. After all the shit you give your son for being a whore, that is about the sluttiest thing I've ever heard. Please tell me he made you drink it or some fucked up shit. Oh my god..." That made up for any snide remarks Moriarty might make up about him and Jim.

Moriarty smirked right back and shook his head, “There you go fantasizing about me again. Sorry to disappoint you Moran, he’s never pissed on me but I’ve seen him do it plenty. Watched him piss on Cyric a few months ago. Now get the _fuck_ out.”

"Next time, take me a picture of that." Sebastian answered whistfully, pleased that Cyric was still suffering. Giving Moran a lazy little salute he left, back down to John's where he picked up Jim from behind and swung him around in half a semicircle, "Get packing, we're off. I'm not in trouble I've just been ordered not to fuck you so much it compromises your job.”

Jim grinned tiredly as Sebastian spun him around. Sometimes he did things like that, silly things, that reminded Jim that he was a child and that he didn’t have to be so fucking grim all the time. It was just difficult to do. Jim’s nightmares got worse after the video, sometimes it was Carl sometimes it was about the time in the attic. The videos didn’t cover everything that happened to him and Jim remembered new things all the time as he relived it in his dreams. He wished he’d never fucking watched it. When Sebastian put him down Jim settled on top of the bed, resting on his stomach. “Pack for me? I’m too tired. Besides, I like watching you work. Glad to hear you aren’t in trouble.”

Sebastian gave him a salute, then tugged his shirt over his head, grinning as he started to pack just in his slacks. If Jim wanted to watch him, he'd give him something to watch. "Nah... no trouble. Your dad's practically had his knackers done. Yeah he snapped at me but it was the usual, nothing new. You're a whore, I'm a whore, sex should be serious and strictly with women in the dark, that sort of shit." He grinned and brightened up, "Also Magnussen pissed on him once. Ha. God I can't wait to get home. First thing I'm doing - having a bath I can actually stretch out in. Not to diss John's very serviceable little shower and bucket but I want to go back home.”

Jim rolled his eyes a little as Sebastian pulled off his shirt but then he was too distracted to feel irritated. He’d filled out with the extra training, he’d been strong before but now it felt like he was twice Jim’s size, he’d even gotten taller by a couple inches. He had to be over six foot now. “Gods that sounds nice. We can take one together. How much does your da know about us?” Jim chose to ignore what Sebastian said about his father, the pissing thing had to be a lie and the rest was just his usual shit like Sebastian said.

Sebastian shrugged, shoulders rippling a little as he packed up the room, "Don't know, don't care. He's still fuming Magnussen had me fucked up over the break. All that's done is put him right where Holmes wants him, primed and ready. 'S long as we keep the doors locked we can get away with whatever we want." He turned to Jim with a smile, grabbing his own bag from under the bed, "whatever you want, yeah?”

“Yeah ’s right, this summer is going to be a fucking breeze compared to the work he’s been having me doing, all I have to do is piss around with Sherlock a little and hand over whatever information Mycroft gives me to give to Magnussen.” Jim paused and glanced away from Sebastian for a moment. “I didn’t know if he knew about us, you know. If he knew you liked blokes at all. I’ve still got the video if you want to show him. He doesn’t have to watch the whole thing.”

"He is not seeing any of that video." Sebastian snapped back angrily. Angry because it was the only way he could cope with it all. "I have no fucking clue what he knows but he used to piss around giving handjobs to prefects at Eton so he's not going to go mental at a little fooling around, _if_ he sees us at it. None of this is any of his fucking buisiness - he's Mycroft's pawn, that's all, and I don't mind helping Holmes use him.”

“Jesus, fucking calm down alright?” Jim was a little alarmed, he had daddy issues but he still wasn’t going around calling his father a pawn. It was just odd. Seb didn’t talk about his dad much. “Is your mum going to be around at all? It would be nice to see her.”

Seb calmed down a bit as his mother was mentioned, giving a laugh and a shrug, "Ah, who knows. Probably. Hopefully. She knows it's my holiday, and she'll want to see me. Want to see you as well, check you're eating enough." He shot Jim a little apologetic grin, pushing the last of his clothes into his trunk.

“All those clothes she bought me should still fit.” Jim had certainly gotten stronger at school this year but sadly he hadn’t gotten much taller or larger really. Eating enough everyday hadn’t really been one of his main concerns the last two terms and while he’d put on some muscle it wasn’t enough to make a difference in his overall size. “Good. Hurry up and pack, I want to head out soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: disturbing content


	12. Bet He Wasn't as Good as Me

For the first few days at the Moran's estate Seb clung to Jim possessively, knowing that this wasn't time they'd have forever. In the bath, in the bed, the brief moments where they came downstairs for meals, he was almost capable of letting Jim go, even giving him a last and desperate passionate kiss as they got out of the cars at the Holmes residence. Mycroft met them at the door, nodding briefly to Sebastian before shaking is fathers hand and inviting them all in, "Do come in. How wonderful to see you again Moriarty, I trust you had a good term?"

"Yeah, it was a riot." Seb muttered back.

Jim saw Sebastian’s desperation and fairly often was able to meet it, but there were some days where he had to pull away, turn his head to the side when Sebastian kissed him or take his hands off of him. Magnussen was right, Jim couldn’t afford to be distracted. But they did spend time together, it was difficult to pull away even that much and Jim noticed how dependent on each other they’d become. He didn’t know if that should alarm him or not. He almost flinched a little when Mycroft asked if he had a good term, it was easily the worst time of his life, rivaled only by last term. They went inside and Jim tried to memorize the layout of the huge house. He just wanted his meeting with Mycroft to be over so that he could go around and piss off with Sherlock but he knew the niceties had to be observed. He would never understand the obscenely wealthy.

The dinner happened mostly in silence, with the odd pleasantry passing between Moran and Holmes's parents. Sherlock sloped in half way through, picked at some food, looked at Sebastian and shook his head in disgust and walked out again. It wasn't until the evening when Mycroft managed to steer Jim away from the drinking that started and into a spare room, where he clasped his hands behind his back. "Firstly I'd like to thank you, for letting me know about this, and for trusting me enough to work on my side." He paused and then gave a small smile, "Unfortunately for both of us, you will have to remain in this house for Magnussen to believe you're doing your job. I'll give you the information he asks for when you need it, even a few extra perks on the condition that he recieves nothing but what I'm giving you. Other than that feel free to spend the time how you want.”

Jim frowned at Mycroft, not liking the proposal. “I’m not a pet you can keep locked up and pull out whenever you need it. Is Sebastian going to be able to come over or what?” Jim had already mentally resigned himself to staying and he shook his head at Mycroft, “Look mate, I know the score. I fucking hate Mags and I can promise you I won’t be giving him any information. I don’t exactly like you but — you aren’t him. And the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” That said, Jim would absolutely stab Mycroft in the back if Mags worked out they were together.

Mycroft sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, "Why do you insist on pretending that you are the most important person in all this? Very well, you may run around like an uncaged labrat and put the entire fate of the nation at stake because you want to snog your boyfriend. Of course Sebatian may visit but I need to know what Magnussen knows. What you are telling him. That is non-negotiable.”

Jim shrugged, smirking. “I know I’m not the most important person but I also know that if I don’t look after my own interests then no one else is going to. Magnussen has been giving me mixed signals on what he wants me to do for you, basically whether sex should come into it or not. I think his position is ‘don’t try it but if he comes on to you then you abso-fucking-lutely do whatever he tells you to.’ I’ll make sure to keep you informed. I want this to be safe and easy I’m not planning on going off script.”

Mycroft gave a small delicate shudder, "Please do not attempt to have sexual intercourse with me. I think that's one area where I have no issues at all with you disobeying Magnussen." He hesitated and then sighed, frowning at his shoes, "I'd - well - I'll not ask what orders you've been given regarding my brother as I suspect I won't like the answer, however I'd like to kindly request that you also refrain from having sexual intercourse with him. That is very much a request, rather than an order." An unhappy look cross his face and he carefully smoothed it away, taking a key out of his pocket. "There's a lock on the inside of your room. I thought you might appreciate that. The official story is that you're staying here to do some studying with Sherlock and you and Sebastian have had an arguement. However I'm sure there will be plenty of enthusiastic making-up attempts.”

Jim gave Mycroft a clearly offended look when he looked so repulsed by the idea of sex with him. A good many people had had sex with Jim and _they_ all enjoyed themselves. “I only have one order so far for Sherlock and I already told you it’s to keep him out of rehab. Maybe I’ll have John around. I think they’d make good study buddies.” Jim smirked back at the other man. “And of course, you know how teenagers are. Fighting and snogging all the time.”

Mycroft froze a little, and managed a small smile. "I really don't think bringing John around is a good idea. At all. If I respected your intelligence less I would happily both pay and encourage you to spend your entire time here drinking, drugged up and playing with your sex-buddy but we both know you're interested in things a little higher than that. You're welcome to join us for the rest of the evening, or I can let Master Moran know that you'll be in your room.”

“Weren’t Sherlock and him mates? You don’t think that John could help him?” He wasn’t concerned for Sherlock but he didn’t want to be stuck here alone either. “Thanks so much for that. No I’m going to see him, he wouldn’t believe you if you showed up without me.”

"They were not mates." Mycroft snapped, "They were in fact, anything but. They..." Glaring at Jim he stalked over to the door, hesitating before he opened it, "Doctor Watson, as I'm sure you know, has something of a crush on my brother. I do not know if it is returned. I suspect it isn't. I think it's probably better that way. I would prefer if you didn't encourage them, for John's sake if not for mine." With that he opened the door. "After you. Try the sherry, it's rather good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Most of the people his brother bought around were boring, and Sherlock tried to spend as little time with them as possible. This latest boy though - Moriarty - he was different. Strange, fascinating, all fractured edges of anger and insecurity. Sherlock was well aware that the boy was mixed up in politics and quite possibly playing him against someone else, but he'd passed the point of caring with that kind of buisiness. He was happy to let the boy follow him when they left the table, up to Sherlock's room where he tugged open his bedside drawer and bought out a bag of weed, tugging over what looked like some important signed-off document and carelessly tearing a strip off it. "It's a marjuana kind of evening." He said, raising an eyebrow to Jim in an unspoken offer to join in. "And if you stay down there any longer Sebastian Moran is going to sodomise you over the cheese table. Does that boy not have anything else to do with his hands?”

Jim followed Sherlock upstairs to his room, feeling frustrated and lonely already. It was such a stupid thing, this job was going to be easy, he should be grateful. But it had only been a day and Mycroft was already controlling where he slept and who he saw. It was like Magnussen except without the forced prostitution and beatings. So not really like Magnussen at all then. Still Jim slumped after Sherlock, trying to remember that he’d probably not be _completely_ isolated the whole summer. It just reminded him of that whole ugly thing immediately following Christmas holiday when he’d pushed everyone away and he’d tried to do it alone. This felt similar. Sherlock pulled out some marijuana and Jim grinned a little, “Yeah absolutely. Just promise me you won’t use the word sodomy again. And he knows exactly what to do with his hands, you know?” Jim was only teasing and trying to get a reaction out of Sherlock who he remembered as being very standoffish. “So it’s been about six months since the last time you saw me, do I look different? What’s that thing you do? Deduce me.” Jim grinned and sat down next to Sherlock and leaned in to his personal space. A lot had happened since he’d last seen Sherlock, he wanted to know if he wore it on his sleeve and in his skin like it felt most days. “What do you see?”

Sherlock made a face at the implications of Moran doing anything sexual with his hands, rolling them both a joint and then hesitating with a slightly diasppointed sigh. They were alone and the first thing Jim had asked for was his party trick - even if he could rather appreciate that Jim probably had a different reason to most for asking for it. "I don't know - here, hold that. If you want me to do it properly it'll have to be before I light up." He sighed, leaning back as Jim leaned in, to look over him properly, "Hmm... I don't know. You're lonely. You're not staying in the barracks anymore, you're having a lot of sex with Sebastian Moran..." His voice changed as he started to scan Jim properly, looking over his body, "Somebody hates you - you were beaten very badly at one point probably... a month, two months ago? And then again more recently, but not as badly, just enough for you to want to make sure you're covering all the skin - polonecks and tugging your sleaves down, even though the damage is long gone. Sebastian saw it, but couldn't do much about it, I suspect he didn't do anything about it and hates himself for that. Anything I could've told about your time at school has been overlayed by the fact that you've apparently spent most of the week since you got back in a bath with... ugh... probably Chanel products? And my brother underestimates you. Give me the joint.”

“Don’t be like that…” Jim pressed his face into Sherlock’s space. “It’s helpful, what you do. I didn’t realize I was wearing long sleeves, not for the reasons you mentioned anyway. Your brother sees just about everything you do, if you point out where my weaknesses show I have an easier time of hiding them. You’re useful. Do I even what to know how you deduced that I’ve been having a lot of sex?” Sherlock lit the joint and passed it to Jim who took a moderate amount, holding the smoke in his lungs until his eyes began to water and he had to exhale. At least he wasn’t coughing, fucking embarrassing. “What do you mean your brother underestimates me?”

"It's not hard to deduce you're having a lot of sex when Sebastian can't keep his hands off you." Sherlock grumbled, taking the joint and carefully inhaling, "If his hands spend any longer down the back of your pants they'll have to start paying rent. Also you walk different." He sighed, leaning back and letting Jim lean close to him, not really caring any more whether some smart little teenager wanted to hover in his personal space. "My brother doesn't think you're as clever as you are. He just sees you as another little piece to move around. I'd warn him, but, you know, I'm paralysed by not caring very much. And it might be fun to watch. What did Sebastian do that was illegal?”

Jim took another drag, smiling lightly, starting to relax just a little. “He might not be able to keep his hands off of me because we _aren’t_ having sex. But if you really say I’m walking differently then that answers that.” How odd. Jim couldn’t decide if it was uncomfortable or refreshing to be around someone so honest. Jim’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “Seb’s not done anything illegal.” Unless you counted the whole thing about the sex they were having before Jim turned sixteen but Seb hadn’t actually known about that until later. Jim had been very careful to keep him uninvolved. He liked the idea that he was cleverer than Mycroft gave him credit for. It was easy to get beaten down to a point where Jim couldn’t see any value in himself beyond what he could do for others.

"Well he thinks he has. Or he thinks you have..." Sherlock took another inhale, happy to relax against Jim and pass the joint back and forth. "Magnusen I suspect doesn't underestimate you. But he will overestimate himself and how much he can control you. He usually does that. He did with Mycroft." He added bleakly. He looked over Jim again but the drug was beginning to kick in and it made his spinning thoughts slow down a little, "Hmm... how about you then? You like my party trick - have you ever been tempted to use it? How about Lord Moran…"

“That doesn’t surprise me. It turns out that prostitution is illegal, I doubt that anyone at the Met would give a fuck about how enthusiastic I am about it.” Jim didn’t think they would care he hadn’t wanted to. In the end he hadn’t destroyed the tape but he hadn’t watched it again either. He smiled for Sherlock, took a drag off of the joint which was almost burned down, cupped the side of Sherlock’s face and stretched up to kiss him, shotgunning the smoke into his lungs. “I’m afraid I’m not at good at that as you are. I can see what people want, that’s very easy though. I think everyone does what you do, you’ve just gone and made it a science. Weaponized it. What about Lord Moran?”

Sherlock gave a little gasp as Jim's lips closed over his, hesitating every so slightly then leaning forward to let him, giving a little moan as the smoke filled his lungs, "Ah - uh - I -" he gasped, a flush spreading over his cheeks as he stared down at his hands, "Uh. Lord Moran. He's angry - very angry. And worried about Sebastian. He's also started taking drugs again. He's getting more aggressive at the office, and he hates Magnussen. I mean he always did but now - uh." He looked at the joint and handed it back to Jim without taking an inhale, "Um, another one? Like... before…"

Jim couldn’t help grinning into Sherlock’s mouth when he earned that little moan. “Flustered?” He breathed back, but the moment was ruined a little when Sherlock explained what had been going on with Lord Moran. He hadn’t realized what a shit storm he’d caused with that little power play. “So what, you want me to deduce Lord Moran? Seems like you’ve already worked it out. And I know already so that would be cheating…” Jim complied though, taking the last bit of the blunt, putting it out and using both hands this time to hold Sherlock in place so that he could kiss him senseless, breathing the smoke into his lungs. “You like that?” Jim asked curiously. “You know weed is supposed to make you randy. Most drugs do, I feel like.”

"You have absolutely no idea how completely and utterly uninterested in Lord Moran I am..." Sherlock gasped, his eyes flickering closed as Jim grabbed his head and held it still while the smoke blew into his lungs in a healthy breath of reduced oxygen straight from Jim. His hands fluttered and clenched on either side of them, not quite knowing what he was meant to do with them, only knowing that after a term of a dull nothingness, Jim was breathing a fire right into him. "Don't... no... not randy. I'm not going to -" Sherlock managed as they parted, flushed and panting and managing a slightly miserable, "Sebastian Moran would tear my head off…"

Jim was grinning like a loon now, watching Sherlock flush and sputter and melt away from that cold persona. He liked earning these reactions from the man and he wanted more. He took Sherlock’s fluttering hands placed one slightly underneath the turtleneck he was wearing, inviting him to explore the skin there and the other on his thigh. “Do you not have anything to do with your hands?” Jim threw Sherlock’s words back at him playfully. “I can keep a secret if you will. Monogamy hasn’t really worked well for us in the past and he knows better than to tell me what to do with my body. I want us to be friends…” Jim pressed his mouth against Sherlock’s pulse point, sucking on the skin there.

"Friends..." Sherlock managed dizzily, "I think you... treat your friends differently from how I treat my friends..." He hesitated and frowned, "Although I don't have any friends. You've been sleeping badly, even at the Moran residence in comfy pillows and sheets with a close and willing Moran you've been sleeping... terribly. Nightmares I think, seeing as you can't even get a decent round of REM nap..." The hand under Jim's turtleneck slid out fast with a little "stoppit" but he didn't more the hand away from Jim's thigh, tilting his head and giving another weak moan as the mouth sucked hot and wet against his neck, "A-ahhh... pulse-rate... y-you can tell. Tell how I - did you, it is Chanel. You're having nightmares and Sebastian's afraid of police sirens and his father is falling apart... _what have you done…“_

Jim felt his lungs constrict and freeze up in his chest, that band was back, wrapped tight around his rib cage and he couldn’t _breathe._ Jim was up like a shot, untangling himself from Sherlock and he busied himself with rolling and lighting another joint, glancing at the documents Sherlock was using for joint paper. “Thank you very fucking much for killing my buzz.” He rubbed at his face unconsciously where that gag had bitten into his skin until he bled. “I denied Magnussen something that he wanted. Turns out that doesn’t come without consequences.” He thought that Sherlock was talking about spring break, because that was why Moran was so angry and primarily why Jim was having nightmares. When the joint was rolled Jim took another couple of hits from it, chasing that pleasant warm high he’d had just a moment ago. It still felt like he couldn’t breathe but it was easier without Sherlock’s hands on him. Even if Jim put them there. It just wasn’t a good time.

Sherlock fell back, watching Jim with confusion and alarm as he moved away and then angrily shuffled backwards to sit in the corner, knees bent up and arms wrapped around them. "I didn't ask you to come up here and didn't ask you to kiss me." He muttered, all spiky and ruffled. "I just let my guard down, sorry, sorry for not realising that you think I'm a freak as well - oh yeah it's all fun and games until suddenly I find out something you don't want me to and then you tell me to fuck off and it won't _work_ and we're the wrong _ages."_ He scowled, eyes fixed on Jim, "I told you before you'd been beaten, it didn't seem to affect you then. Ignore the paperwork it's just an incredibly dull first draft from the ministry of transport about a high-speed railway that they can't afford." He sighed and uncurled one arm for the joint. "I didn't mean to startle you. How about I shut up and get fucked up on my entire bedside drawer. That's usually the solution that works best for everybody.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Jim snapped. “Just — it’s different and you know it. Why’ve you got to be so stupid.” Jim knew that Sherlock wasn’t really stupid but it seriously didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to put together what had happened from all of the things Sherlock read off of him and bits and pieces Jim had said himself. It wasn’t that hard to figure out and instead Sherlock was making this about him. “You don’t have to have your guard up around me, you just surprised me is all. Give me a minute.” Jim took another hit before exhaling slowly, feeling a little dizzy from smoking so much in just a few seconds. He put the joint in the ashtray and sat next to Sherlock on the corner of his bed with his back to the wall. “You don’t need to get fucked up. I’m fine. Magnussen — he does what you do, but it’s only your weaknesses. So he’ll take something and keep talking about it and sending you back in your head to that thing and I thought that’s what you were doing. I thought you were trying to — trigger — me on purpose. He likes doing that because he thinks it’s funny to watch.” Jim tilted his head to the side so that he could rest it against Sherlock’s shoulder. He was perfectly happy to play the weak cards just to see how he could get the other man to react. “Your age isn’t a problem, I’ve had much older men than you. I like you.”

Sherlock stayed silent for a while as Jim leant against him and then responded quietly, "I have met Magnussen you know. Twice. I've mostly met men who worked for him. He tried to 'recruit' me I think, like he did with my brother." Picking up the joint he inhaled again. It hadn't been Jim he'd been thinking of when he spoke about ages - it had been another conversation, a very long time ago. The last time, in fact, that he'd gone from having someone kissing him to that same person pushing him away and shouting at him for reasons he didn't understand. Giving a groan he tilted his head back, letting it fall against the wall, "Magnussen doesn't do anything like I do. He collects facts and has an incredibly good memory. He doesn't _deduce._ He's certainly not scientific about it. And I will get fucked up, we both know that. I'm certainly not spending the rest of the evening just on weed. See?" He looked at Jim and managed a small smile, "I can still think. Even with my brain being smoked. Need to stop that completely.”

“You know John Watson’s my guardian and he’s — I dunno, he likes you I think. If you want him back then I don’t want to fuck it up, you know? He’s been unhappy and I don’t want to make it worse. But if you aren’t interested in him there’s nothing to ruin, is there?” Jim turned his head and pulled Sherlock’s earlobe into his mouth, biting down on it and using his tongue on the shell. “Don’t be sore at me…” Jim whispered as his hand found its way to Sherlock’s thigh. “There are other ways to stop thinking you know. Although the weed certainly helps.”

Sherlock jumped, giving a gasped "fuck" as Jim was suddenly on him, making stinging little crackles jump at the base of his spine with the tight grip on his earlobe. The hand grabbing at his thigh made his cock jump and he scrabbled to cover it with his hands, "Uh... I can't get John _back_ I n-never had him to start with. It wasn't... what you're thinking. I was just a stupid little kid and - uhhh..." Irritated he found there were the beginnings of tears in his eyes and giving a little frustrated noise he turned and kissed Jim hard, his leg sliding over so that Jim could keep fondling it.

Jim gasped in Sherlock’s ear as he jumped under his hand. He took Sherlock’s hardness and his pressing against his hand as permission to touch him there so Jim fondled him through his clothes, hoping to get him harder. This was still more excited than Jim had seen him and that excited Jim. He went lower and sucked a mark high up on Sherlock’s neck, behind his ear, using his teeth just enough to excite him. “Well if you want him, regardless, don’t tell him about this.” Jim breathed as he gave in and crawled into Sherlock’s lap, straddling him but leaving enough room for his hand to keep moving against his crotch. He kissed Sherlock back hungrily and then reached up to kiss under his eyes instead where the tears were forming, cupping the back of his neck. “It’s okay. Don’t think so much. Focus on this.”

"I don't want him, why should I want him. He doesn't want me." Sherlock muttered in a low continuous breath while Jim kissed at the threatening tears. This was all spiralling out of control very fast, and part of him was well aware that this could be another of Magnussen's tricks - sending Jim to seduce him to grab a stronger hold over his brother. He didn't particularly care though, if anything the thought of screwing over his brother made him cheer up a bit and he moaned as his hard cock was stroked and fondled, "A-ahh - I... I've never..." He flushed furiously, one arm wrapping around Jim's skinny body, "That feels good - f-feels interesting, I can - I can see why people do it. Maybe not see why they do as often as they do but yes... uh…"

“Yeah, he does want you.” Jim muttered back, frustrated that he was in a position where he was trying to set up the man he was trying to fuck with his foster father. “He was upset for weeks when I told him I sucked you off. Like he wouldn’t speak to me. John definitely cared and in a very jealous way. Give him a ring, fucking after though, if you leave just now I’ll be very sore at you…” He grinned when he earned a moan from Sherlock, they didn’t come often and he felt like he had to properly work for them. “You’ve never what? Come? Fucked a person? Been given a mind blowing hand job? Please, do elaborate.” He saw that Sherlock was embarrassed so Jim tried to lighten the mood and distract him. Sherlock wrapped an arm around him, Jim liked that, it didn’t feel so one sided when he could convince Sherlock to participate. “Please, this is like basic levels of what feels good. Here.” Jim quickly had Sherlock trousers down just past his arse and he took a moment to look at his cock before reaching down and stroking his off properly, using little tricks he knew to get him off. Sherlock wasn’t fully hard yet so Jim started by pumping the shaft with one hand and massaging his balls with the other to encourage blood flow while his mouth kissed and bit and sucked along the skin of his neck. Everyone was still wearing far too much clothing.

"Never unh... never any of that..." Sherlock gasped, feeling his insides squirming as the hand suddenly pulled his trousers down, now inside his underwear and pumping at his cock, "W-wait wait, fuck..." it was all going a bit fast and he broke away from the kissing and pressing and touching, waving at the smoke in front of them and giving a gasping laugh. "Fuck... give me a minute. Need... need another joint." He picked up the abandoned one and flicked it a few times taking a deep inhale and then slowly reaching down to tug the back of his underpants down to reveal a shockingly white arse, "Um. Um. Yes. You'll be the first I suppose. Congratulations. Should, uh, should I do anything?" His hands waved around again, more expressively, but now he'd had a moment to breathe he felt a bit more certain about getting back into it again.

Jim gave him a concerned look, “You’ve never come _ever?_ Is that possible? Like you never rub one off even while you’re sleeping?” That had to be a misunderstanding. As soon as Sherlock told him to wait Jim’s hands were off of him and he sat up to give him room. Jim might be pushy but he wasn’t a fucking rapist. When he got a clear no he stopped. Sherlock was laughing though and seemed interested in continuing. Jim tugged off the turtleneck, hunching his shoulders a little and feeling self conscious, like Sherlock said, about injuries he didn’t have anymore. “If we do get to fucking, no pressure or anything, but do you want to fuck me or the other way around? If you’ve never had something in there before it might be best if you topped me. Not as intimidating.” He smiled and shook his head, “What should you do? Whatever you want. Fucking breathe, to start anyway, you’re still all tense. Then just use your hands, touch me wherever. Think of it like an experiment, map out all the different areas and where you get reactions. Alright?” Jim lightly pushed Sherlock’s shoulder back so that he was lying back against the pillows. “It would help if you took your clothes off but if you don’t want to that’s fine. ‘D hate for you to make a mess all over your pretty clothes.”

“I-I'm not intimidated, should I be intimidated?" Sherlock flushed at the question, "Of course I've had a wank, don't make fun of me..." He watched Jim carefully, but when it came to sexual reactions his deductions were in uncharted territory. He watched as Jim tugged his shirt of, letting the other push him back down and then reaching to pull the smaller boy on top of him. "I don't want to, uh, to fuck you. I think you've had rather enough of that. I - ahhh..." Jim's cock pressed against his and he flushed, reaching back to pat gently at Jim's bottom with one hand while the other hovered uncertainly near his side. "I don't want to think of it as an experiment. This is something - different. Or it should be anyway, shouldn't it?”

Jim shrugged a little, “It can hurt your first time that’s all I mean. I like being fucked, and I’m used to it but I’ll take care of you, if you’ll let me.” Jim bent down, lifting Sherlock’s shirt up and kissing at his stomach. He was lying between the man’s spread legs and started to stroke him again. “We can do whatever you want except I won’t suck you off, I don’t do that anymore.” Jim unbuttoned his own trousers but didn’t make any move to tug them down or place Sherlock’s hands on his body. “It can be whatever you want. If thinking of it as an experiment makes you more comfortable, that’s fine. If having a roll with your mate while you are stoned is what does it for you then think of it that way.”

There were too many words coming off Jim and Sherlock shook his head, tiredly. He didn't want to think about what this was, because mostly what it was was either him being seduced by Magnussen's agent or, conversely, him taking advantage of an abused teenager. "Don't - don't do that if you don't want to... s'okay. I think, I think sometimes it doesn't hurt?" He tried hopelessly, arching his hips a little as Jim's hand rubbed at exposed cock. His hands moved, slowly and carefully, to slide under the back of Jim's trousers, squeezing at his bottom beneith. "Are - are you sure... I mean you and Sebastian…"

Jim could see that Sherlock was feeling a bit overwhelmed so he decided to just let it go and if they tripped up then they would deal with one thing at a time. Virgins were a surprising amount of work. “No one is making me do this, that’s why I like it. I’d do everything I could not to hurt you but I can’t guarantee anything. You’re so tense I’m not sure how successful I would be. It’s up to you, you don’t have to decide right this minute.” Jim gave an appreciative moan as Sherlock gripped and squeezed his arse, the first real touching he’d done since they started. “Sebastian? He’s not my boyfriend. It’s fine. He’s not going to be around much anyway. I’m sure, I like you and I think you’re smart and pretty and your brother has made it abundantly clear he doesn’t want me. Besides, this is going to irritate him.” Jim grinned conspiratorially as he went back to petting and stroking Sherlock, trying to get him fully hard. “What do you want to do lovely?”

"D-does he know he's not your boyfriend?" Was the only murmured response Sherlock made before deciding he'd spent enough time on schoolboy feelings. He flushed at the compliments, squeezing Jim's bottom harder and then reaching up to kiss over his face, everywhere but his lips, "Oh, no, don't say things like that, I'm not some silly girl. I don't _need_ to hear them. I-I'm fine with this. This is good. I-I would like you to try. With me. I mean I'm _damn_ well old enough." He scowled and then latched onto Jim's lips moaning as he kissed him hard.

Jim had been very careful about avoiding labels with Sebastian and making it clear that he had to be free to have sex with who he wanted. That said, Jim didn’t expect that he’d be interested in Sherlock after this summer and they could both go their separate ways. “I said them because they are true.” As much as Sherlock might insist that he didn’t need to hear them he sure responded enthusiastically to them. “Good, I want to do that with you. I have lube and condoms in my pocket. The perils of a randy lover. Should I do the lube or would you like to?” Jim still wasn’t totally sure whether Sherlock wanted to top or bottom. He kissed him back eagerly, working his tongue into his mouth and pulling Sherlock’s shirt over his head.

"Lube - oh god - I don't want to think about it..." Sherlock gave a small laugh, lifting himself up to help Jim tug the shirt over his narrow shoulders. "Yes, lube. You do it. Look after me, o-okay?" He didn't want to think about the fact that Jim had brought them along in case Sebastian really couldn't keep to himself, his hands sliding over Jim's chest, gently rubbing against old scars and a little bruise Sebastian had left on his hip during a particularly enthusiastic moment in the shower.

“Okay, come here…” Jim grabbed one of the pillows and fitted it under Sherlock’s hips, lifting them so he’d have easier access and Sherlock would be more comfortable. “You like them?” He asked companionably, indicating the scars and bruises that Sherlock seemed so interested in. “Can you guess what did em?” Jim wanted to give Sherlock a puzzle, something to think about while he prepped him. He pulled the condom and lube out of his pocket before pulling Sherlock’s trousers all the way off. Jim pressed little kisses and nips to the inside of Sherlock’s thighs and knees as he warmed the lube in his hand before spreading it around on his fingers. He teased at Sherlock’s hole, rubbing the lube around a little, letting him get used to something being there before Jim slowly pushed one little finger in, watching Sherlock for any expression of discomfort.

Sherlock looked at them solomnly, wondering what on earth Jim had been through that he thought of even his scars as something he could flirt with. "I don't want to guess - I'll probably get it right..." he murmured, reaching up to kiss gently at them and then giving a little mew of pleasure as Jim's teeth nipped against sensitive areas of his skin. His hips arched up again as the finger was suddenly touching around his entrance and his eyes widened, "A-ahh w-wow... nhh..." It felt very strange Jim pushing in and his face twisted up a bit as he wriggled. He was quick enough to give a "K-keep going." As he felt Jim stop, reassured the boy wasn't going to rush with things.

The mood was suddenly far too serious and Jim had an irrational fear that he couldn’t sexually relate to anyone who hadn’t hurt him at one point, any of the other men, Sebastian included would have jumped on that game. Jim’s breath caught as Sherlock pressed his mouth against the scars, giving a quick moan and responding to Sherlock’s noises. He had to pause when Sherlock’s face twisted up but he continued when Sherlock urged him on, crooking the single finger and working it in and out, searching out the man’s prostate. “How do you feel, ready for another?” It occurred to Jim that he was being absurdly soft and he didn’t really know why, ignoring the possibility he was trying to make up for his first time in some fucked up way.

"It's sort of, wierd, and a bit... ohhh!" Sherlock arched back as the finger brushed against his prostate, his legs spreading and panting up at Jim, "Mmm... oh yes... a-another. Ah! Wait..." the push of the finger inside him was suddenly a bit much and he let his head fall back breathing slowly and relaxing. He gave a giggle and waved an arm at Jim, "Joint. put it in my mouth. I'll -- haha - I'll suck on it, you hold it, heh." It was suddenly all abserdly silly yet fun and he knew he was probably relaxed a bit more, "Any, a-another finger... please.”

Jim moaned as Sherlock arched up and spread his legs wider. Fuck, he wished he wasn’t still hung up about the oral sex thing because that was a fucking invitation if he ever saw one. Best not risk it though. Being high and having sex was wonderful and for a moment Jim felt an intense pang of loneliness, he wished Sebastian was here to help him take Sherlock apart. It wouldn’t _work_ of course, Sebastian was too crass and rough for Sherlock right now but he still wished he could share this with him. Jim reached for the joint out of the ashtray and stuck it in Sherlock’s mouth. Fuck he looked good like that. Jim was half hard and he hadn’t even touched himself yet. Sherlock asked for another finger and Jim was happy to oblige, pressing another one inside and scissoring the man open, working his fingers in and out to stretch him. “Better?”

Sherlock gave a long suck on the joint, blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth, relaxing even further, his body long and languid and draped over the cushion, cock hard, with two of Jims' fingers pressing open his tight and untouched entrance, "A-ahhh - mmmm - f-feels good. Unh. Tight. But good. 'S - 'S it okay for you? Ahhh..." Another deep breath, the smoke just filling his head now as Jim filled his body.

“God you look so fucking good like this.” Jim was glad for once that his memory was so good, he took plenty of time looking Sherlock over, tasting his skin, leaving little bites and kisses along his chest. His mouth settled over a nipple while his free hand played with the other one. Jim worked his fingers out, adding a third and a fourth just to be safe, wanting to be sure that the man was as stretched as possible before he started. “Fuck yeah you are tight… let me know when you’re ready for my cock, hmmm?” Jim bit down carefully on a nipple, tweaking it with his teeth.

Sherlock moaned and writhed underneath him - any edges of pain from the stretching fingers completely lost in the waves of heated pleasure that Jim's mouth and teeth seemed to be able to create. He jerked up into a half sitting position as Jim's teeth tweaked as his nipple, flushed red and sensitive, giving a small yelp, "A-ah! Y-yes, yes. God I'm ready, please... please do it." He put a hand behind Jim's head, tugging him closer for another kiss, teeth and tongue trying inexpertly to return at least some of the pleasure, hot and flushed with the knowledge that not only was he going to lose his virginity - he was going to do it to a spy potentially compromising his brother.

Sherlock kissed him and it needed a little work so Jim held the man’s chin in place and he took the time to show him how to do it properly, throwing in different little tricks until Sherlock could copy and perform them well enough. He wasn’t going to take the man’s virginity without making sure he knew how to kiss first. While they were kissing Jim kicked off his trousers and touched himself, getting himself fully hard so that he could finally slip the condom on. More lube went on over the condom, Jim wasn’t worried about overdoing it. “I’m going to fuck you now. I want you to let go and relax, I love it when you make noise. I want your brother to be able to hear you down the hall.” Jim pressed Sherlock’s knees back to his chest, spreading them as he kissed and bit on the inside of his knee before pushing his cock inside him slowly, moaning over how hot and tight he felt. “Tell me if you need me to stop… shit.” He hissed, hoping like fuck Sherlock wouldn’t ask him to stop because that would be really fucking difficult.

Sherlock nodded desperately, moaning out a "yesss" as Jim asked him to make noise. He wasn't sure it was the best idea - with Mycroft still in the house and both of his parents, but he was long passed caring, taking out the joint with a giggle he gently rested it on the side table and then his gaps turned into a cry as Jim's cock was sliding inside him, opening him the rest of the way up and filling him completely, "A-ahh! O-ohhhh, oh, oh dear, oh that's fuck that's big. God... n-nuhhh i-it's okay, d-don't stop, but, big... v-very fulll... ohhh…"

Jim actually snorted and got a fit of the giggles, which he blamed on the weed. “M not, just average sized but thank you for saying that. I’m sure it seems plenty big to you right now, doesn’t it? I wish you knew how good you felt to me right now — all tight and hot…” Jim started moving, thrusting into him slowly and shallowly at first but then he really got going. He had actually gotten good at this over the last weeks with Sebastian and learning how to top for him. Jim knew how to angle himself to get the prostate and what would feel good.

"F-feels like a fucking cricket bat..." Sherlock gasped, breath in short shallow pants, his chest rapidly rising and falling and his eyes wide as he waited for the stretch to die down, the sting to turn into the hot eager feeling bubbling over inside him. "F-feel enormous, o-oh Jim..." His hands gripped at the blankets below him and his hips started to jerk into the thrusts as Jim sped up. It was going just slightly too fast for him to feel in control but he prefered that - to be swept away on new waves of feeling each time his brain got close to catching up and panicking.

Jim chuckled again and let the praise go to his head a bit, he didn’t get compliments like that often and he wanted to savor it. Anything good he felt was worth savoring. “God I love it when you say my name… keep doing it. I want them to know how good I make you feel — uhhhh.” Jim had to close his eyes as a groan escaped him. Sherlock was just so _tight_ and fucking him felt so good. If he wasn’t so eager to come he might have wished that it could last for longer.

"J-Jim..." Sherlock gasped obediently and then moaned it a little louder, "Ugh... Jim!" Everything still felt tight and aching and hot, but he could feel his climax shuddering up inside him and flushed harder at the thought that this was his first one during sex. He suddenly felt a wash of shame - that he was using this young abused boy to spite his brother and decided that if he was going to lose his virginity in a stupid snit to someone who already had a boyfriend he'd damn well make it worthwhile. Raising his voice he cried out Jim's name harder, gasping and begging him for more, crying out how beautiful and big he was and how much he, Sherlock, desperately wanted to get fucked.

Jim noticed the moment when Sherlock flushed unhappily, looking ashamed and conflicted. He was ready to pull out and roll over, wanking his angst away but then Sherlock seemed to rally. _Fuck_ he was loud and for a moment Jim was surprised, trying to work out if it was genuine, but then he got into it. His voice echoed under Sherlock, egging him on and joining with his own sounds until he felt his orgasm hot on his heels and reached down to stroke Sherlock’s cock while he pressed his weight down, spreading his legs further and fucking the man into the mattress until he came hard enough he saw stars.

Sherlock practically screamed as Jim touched his cock, humping up into him, legs tugged right back now, letting Jim hammer is arse senseless until the orgasm rushed over him and he came, crying out Jim's name loud. It seemed to take a very long time for him to come down, gasping and gulping like a fish on land, eyes blinking and reaching up to try and pull the body above him closer, hissing as a sore ache thudded through his arse. "A-ahhh - joint. Here - t-take it. Breathe. Breathe smoke.”

“Hmmm?” Jim muttered drowsily. He’d been sleeping so poorly lately that sex tended to totally wipe him out. He’d been relying on it to get a few hours of sleep every day and Sebastian was happy to oblige him in that usually. He pulled out while Sherlock was still coming down and pulled off the condom, mopping them both up with a towel and tossing the rubber in a bin. Jim took the blunt obediently and inhaled, letting the weed lull him into a relaxed stupor as he dozed on Sherlock’s chest. “You good? Not too sore? Weed will help with that.”

Sherlock patted his head and managed a dozy smile as Jim wiped him down, "Mmm yes, sore and strange. But... I like it. It'll be nice to still feel it a bit... tomorrow. Get some sleep. You need it, you really do." Picking up the blunt he grabbed the blanket at the bottom of the bed and tugged it up over the two of them, happy to lay there smoking while Jim slept.

 _This_ was what Jim wanted, the bliss of those few minutes, feeling arms around him while he closed his eyes and just breathed as he fell asleep. His dreams were not peaceful. They never were anymore. This one featured Magnussen bending him over his desk at school, stripping him and holding him down and telling him how much he’d been looking forward to this since seeing his videos. About half way through the scene changed — Jim was still trapped and pressed against the desk while being violated but it was Mycroft now and his office. The scene kept switching back and forth as their activities progressed and finally it was Mycroft who came inside him, leaving Jim bruised and crying to slump on the floor and curl up. Magnussen licked the tears from his face and with Mycroft’s voice whispered out. “It’s for your own good. I’m only trying to help you. _Trust me.”_

Sherlock hadn't been expecting to get any sleep, but he had been half drifting off when Jim had started to shake. Uncertainly, he'd propped himself up a bit and watched the boy, frowning in confusion as he saw him shake and gasp out, shivering and whimpering. He wasn't sure if he should hug him, stop hugging him, touch him or leave him and he could only watch, dazed, stoned and blank as Jim sniffled and gasped and whimpered out his brothers name. Sherlock felt a dull sort of anger thud through him as he recognised the name, reaching over to stub out the joint and murmuring, "Yes. Yes he does that." Without any clear idea of what it was Jim was accusing Mycroft of doing. Uncertainly he patted Jim's hair as the boy suddenly slumped down, breath hitched and eyelids flickering rapidly. "Stay asleep, it's probably better if you stay asleep, it's just a dream.”

Jim’s eyes opened for a moment and his hand rubbed away at the tears that had gathered under his eyes. “‘Bastian?” He muttered, confused, because the bony body next to his didn’t feel like Sebastian but Jim wasn’t afraid either so he did as the voice said and fell back asleep. He didn’t remember the dream when he woke up next.

"Yes." Sherlock answered rather sadly in a low voice, breathing a sigh of relief as Jim fell back to sleep. After that, he couldn't get any rest either, pacing up and down the room. He wanted to go and get Mycroft, to shout at him, or ask him what the hell he was playing at but instead he picked up Jim's phone, searched through for a number and when he found it sent a text from his own phone _JM having nightmares. Go to library in town tomorrow 2pm will meet you there, he needs you. -SH_

 

* * *

 

 

Sherlock had been acting funny all morning but Jim put it down to the whole loss of virginity thing. “I’m going to go for a shower then love…” Jim wrapped a clean towel around his waist and didn’t bother getting dressed since he’d slept in the nude. He stepped out, shutting the bedroom door behind him and bumped into Mycroft. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Shower.” Jim still smelled heavily of weed and sex and Sherlock, being naked and in the hallway wasn’t the best way to meet Mycroft.

Mycroft scowled, at him, glaring down at him and glancing at the door as he hissed. "Well thank you very much. That's a wonderful way to keep in my good graces, you know, fucking my brother less than a day after I specifically requested you not to?" His fist clenched and unclenched; Mycroft had never been one for physical violence but he was feeling pretty pushed right now. "I did hear it you know, although I expect that was your aim. And I'll tell you this now, while you're determined to fuck my brother you're not seeing Sebastian Moran, not in this house.”

“You said it was a request…” Jim mumbled petulantly. “It just sort of happened. I didn’t really think he’d ask me to bugger him. Let’s be honest here, you’re just as surprised as I was. Oh, sorry, was I expected to be the _adult_ in that situation. Tell him _no_ we _shouldn’t.”_ He watched Mycroft’s hands warily, not wanting to get caught unawares and get hit. “Relax. If I was really trying to get one over on you then I would have kept quiet about it, wouldn’t I?” He flushed angrily when Mycroft said that Sebastian couldn’t come over. He wouldn’t dignify that threat with a response.

"I know my brother, and I know my brother has not _once_ requested to have sex with _anyone."_ Mycroft hissed, "Added to which you have a responsibility as my -" he stopped abruptly as the door opened and Sherlock trailed out, wrapped in a sheet, scowling as he saw Mycroft.

"Please don't tell me you've been hanging around all night, brother mine, waiting for one of us to come out. That would be quite, quite tragic. Why don't you stop masturbating over other people's lives for once and go and see to your own. Jim and I are going out to the library to meet a friend."

Mycroft stared at him furiously and then rounded on Jim, "Moriarty please bear in mind you will need to report back to your superior eventually. If we could have a meeting some time this afternoon, if you can slot it into your very _busy_ schedule of fornicating with my relatives, I would be much obliged.”

“Well he did, okay? I asked what he wanted to do and that’s what he wanted, I even offered to let him top, alright? Your brother is a fucking adult, he can make his own decisions. Is it so fucking hard to believe that someone would want to have sex with me?” Jim by now was angry, he’d never really had an argument with Mycroft but this was ridiculous. Jim couldn’t go without a bed to share with someone for the whole summer. He couldn’t sleep by himself every night, have nothing and no one to occupy his time. Sex was the best way he knew how to get people to spend time with him. Sherlock came out then and Jim didn’t even smile at his quips, too worried and frustrated about the situation. “Yeah we can meet. I’m sure that won’t take long. As soon as I come back I’ll find you to see if you are available.” Jim was only slightly curious about this friend, mostly he was anticipating having to give Sherlock up and being totally alone for months except for his meetings with CAM and Mycroft. 

"I should be available, I'm not the one who going around fucking everyone in sight." Mycroft snapped back, leaving hastily as he saw Sherlock glare at him.

Once he was gone Sherlock looked nervously around and then licked his lips. "Um. Well. I texted Sebastian and told him we should meet in the library. I realise now that it's entirely possible you don't want to do that. After. Well. After things. So you don't have to. I'll - uh I'll have a shower.”

Jim flinched back but his expression was stony. Mycroft couldn’t hurt him with his words. Sherlock had texted Sebastian. Huh. “No yeah that’s alright. Course I want to see him, just maybe leave it to me to mention… the other stuff to him. I’ll join you.” Jim was sure there was more than one shower in the grand house but he rather liked sharing a shower, had grown accustomed to it and he stretched his arms up to wash Sherlock’s hair as the water rinsed away the suds. Jim made sure to wear short sleeves today, a v neck, just to be contradictory to what Sherlock said last night. They traveled to the library and Jim had a bit of a giggle, imagining Sebastian pacing the stacks like a caged tiger and waiting for him.

Sebastian had been antsy and irritable since he'd received the text, and hadn't quite been expecting to see Jim and Sherlock enter the library together, smiling and giggling like a silly pair of schoolgirls. With a growl he grabbed Sherlock, ramming him up against the book stack and hissing quietly, "Alright you little fucking turd what did you do to him? What happened, how is he, did he sleep? Why were you watching him sleep?"

Sherlock flailed around a little uselessly, trying to slap Moran's fists out of the front of his shirt. "What, no! Get off me you idiot. He's fine, I just thought he might want to see you. And that's for him to tell you, not me.”

“Wait, what?” Jim asked nonplused. He didn’t remember dreaming last night or Sherlock texting Sebastian about it. Obviously though he had been dreaming. Shit. “Seb, calm the _fuck_ down I’m right here, I’m obviously fine. Why don’t you field a few of those questions to me, hmm?” Jim grabbed on to Sebastian’s arm, trying to pull him off of Sherlock. “We were smoking last night and I ended up staying in his room, I don’t even remember dreaming last night. Come on now…” Jim stroked Sebastian’s spine through his shirt, trying to soothe him.

Sebastian let go of Sherlock and then pushed him towards the exit, "Alright you lanky bastard, scram. Me and Jim need some time."

Sherlock straightened his shirt and muttered, "You and Jim need fucking therapy," before sloping off.

Sebastian immediately folded Jim up in a hug, clutching him tight and then looking over him anxiously. "I got a text from him saying you'd had nightmares. Think he's worried about you." He sighed at the faint smell still on Jim's clothes and shook his head. "What were you smoking, hmm? Don't give that twat Mycroft any more reasons to dislike you.”

Jim watched, a little amused as Sherlock left, obviously sulking. He was so relieved that Sebastian was here though. It hadn’t even been a day since he’d been dropped off at the Holmes’ and he hated it there and he missed the other boy. Jim hugged him back tightly. “Yeah, he might be. Nothing to worry about though. Hmmm? Pot. ’S too late, he’s fucking livid at me right now.” Jim pressed against Sebastian’s side, reaching around to put his hands in the boy’s back pockets and pushed him back against the bookshelves. “Don’t be angry, I fucked him. Sherlock.”

"Taking pot like a bad boy..." Sebastian smirked, his jaw dropping a little as Jim continued, squirming in Jim's arms, "What - you're having a laugh - seriously? You - _seriously?"_ He frowned, not at all sure how he felt about it. You... mmm... stop trying to distract me." He reached down and kissed Jim hotly, feeling the shelves digging into his back. "Little bitch - huh - was he any good? Bet he wasn't. Bet he wasn't as good as me.”

“Mmmm, no not as good as you. But he did everything I told him to, so well behaved.” Jim latched his teeth possessively onto Sebastian’s neck. “Distract you? I’d never do that… is it working?” Jim gripped his arse hard through his jeans. “I think one day I would want both of you at the same time. You’d have to be nice to him though, he’s like a skittish colt. I taught him a few things though mmm.” Jim muffled a groan into Sebastian’s mouth, not wanting to make too much noise and get kicked out.

"Huh - you don't like them well behaved, you'd get bored." Sebastian huffed irritated, biting his lip to stop them from making noise and quickly shuffling them both around a corner into relative privacy, moaning as Jim grabbed hard onto his arse. "You get me in a room with that twat and I can't guarantee I'd let him out in one piece. Huh." He hadn't considered the idea of taking Jim with someone else joining in, but the idea was in his head now. "He's not my tyyyyype." He winged, feeling a bit like a little kid trying to prove he was Daddy's favourite. "All skinny and lanky and sulky. I'd break him, mmmm..." He tilted his head back as Jim worked, wrapping arms around his waste to hold them close together.

“He’s well behaved for _me,_ Sherlock definitely shouted at Mycroft in the hall today when he tried to lay into me.” Jim huffed in frustration as Sebastian moved them around the corner where there was less to see. “Think about it, yeah? I’m skinny short and sulky, and he’s all pretty with his legs and his mouth.” Jim gave a short little groan, smirking at Sebastian’s expression. “Don’t break him, he’s the only thing that’s going to keep me from going crazy in that house.” Jim stopped the feverish kisses and just rested with his face pressed against Sebastian’s shoulder. “Missed you. Dunno, it’s so strange you’re always there, _always_ and now I don’t get to see you at all.”

"Yes but you're not a twat." Sebastian grumbled, annoyed that instead of having a Jim desperate to see him all he was getting was a Jim discussing his merits vs. Sherlocks. He sighed as Jim stopped, tilting his head back and trying to think of a polite way to ask Jim to reclaim him again all over the bookshelves and desperately trying to work out what he might have that Sherlock didn't. Jim's next words didn't help, "You missed me because you're _used_ to me? That's a relief to hear. The only way I'd possibly want Sherlock in the bed is so I can fucking bullwhip his pretty long legs then stuff that wet pouty mouth full of my cock after watching you fuck him, alright?" His hands stayed gentle though, rubbing Jim's back as he murmured, "I suppose this means you'll do it again. Don't tell Watson you're both getting stoned in there.”

“No! Ugh fuck.” Jim didn’t know how to explain without sounding like a sop. “Look I spend all my time with you. You help me. You distract me and keep me from sulking. It feels like… dunno, like I lost my leg and you’re a prosthetic and I use you to get around right? But now they’ve taken my prosthetic and I’m left to hobble around… Am I making any fucking sense?” Jim took a breath and held on to Sebastian’s waist more firmly, breathing in his smell. “Yeah right I’m going to tell John I’m fucking his boyfriend while we experiment with different types of narcotics. That’s fucking brilliant.”

"You're not being horribly flattering but I suppose it makes some sense..." Sebastian muttered unhappily, keeping his arms wrapped tight around Jim as he seemed to like the support. "Anything I can do to stop myself getting swapped out for another lanky twatty prosthetic with good cheakbones, hmm?" He bent to nuzzle at Jim's neck and muttered fiercely, "Fuck I know he's smart and all but, really? That's what you want? He couldn't punch a damp rag.”

“He’s useful.” Jim justified. “You’re a hammer, they’re very useful until you need a screwdriver. I can’t replace my hammer with a screwdriver though, can I?” He was just full of all kinds of metaphors today. “You think his cheekbones are good? He’s pretty isn’t he.” Jim teased trying to get Seb worked up to the idea. “Well I’m stuck there with Sherlock, Mycroft, and their parents. Tell me who you would go for, given the choice.”

"I can screw you if you need it." Sebastian sulked, really not liking the comparison but happy enough to have Jim pawing all over him and kissing him. "Huh well if I had to _choose_ probably Mrs. Holmes, isn't she a hell of a MILF? Seriously, she'd be strict as all fuck and oww!" He grinned, teasing of course, "I wouldn't choose a Holmes at all, you know that. Can't stand the lot of them." A rather disturbing image of Mycroft tying him down and whipping him raw surfaced in his mind and he shook his head to clear it, "The only fun thing I could think of to do with Holmes the Skinny is get him totally fucked up and drunk, watch you fuck him, then watch him cry while we fucked in front of him.”

Jim grinned and pressed Sebastian against the shelves again. “Tempting. Still, Mycroft’s already called me a slut today maybe I need to lay off a bit to avoid making him angry.” Jim held on a little tighter, squeezing his arms around Sebastian’s waist. “You aren’t there. It’s just me and all the Holmes’ and I hate it. I know they aren’t doing anything to hurt me, I should be grateful.” He should be, but not having Sebastian around made everything so much more difficult and exhausting. Jim didn’t have to worry about certain things while Sebastian was around, when he wasn’t all of those old anxieties came back.

Sebastian gave a little moan, bending down to nibble at his ear and giving a huff, "Fine, fine, I guess you need something to keep you going in the house of the wankers. I'll let you use Holmes as your little sex toy." He was well aware he had no choice in it, but it was nice to pretend. "I want to see him limping each time I see him yeah? And I'll try meet up with you as often a I can.”

“Oh? You’ll let me?” Jim let his hands go lower again to grip Sebastian’s arse when he heard a throat clear from behind them. It was Sherlock and Jim knew it was time to go. He stood on his toes to reach and give the boy a kiss goodbye, using his tongue and sucking Sebastian’s lower lip into his mouth. “I’ll call okay? Mycroft can’t keep me from that. You should probably stick around here for a few minutes and wait for your erection to go down.” Jim smirked and gave Sebastian’s crotch a little pat before turning and leaving with Sherlock.

Sebastian gave a ragged little groan as Jim walked off, flipping two fingers up at Sherlock and scurrying desperately to the nearest bathroom. Sherlock sneered back at him and shook his head, "What do you see in him. Honestly. He's stupid, dull and violent. After everything you've been through you might be better keeping away from someone who'll go straight for his fists when he's angry.”

Jim shook his head with a grin and wrapped an arm around Sherlock’s waist to irritate him. “I’m not made of glass love. And he’s not hit me since the first week I met him. Everyone seems stupid to you.” Jim cuddled up to him, pressing his face into the side of Sherlock’s neck, just for the PDA factor. “Come on, let’s go see what that brother of yours wants.”

"I think most people seem stupid to you as well." Was all Sherlock answered quietly, initially stiffening and then relaxing as Jim's arm wrapped around him.

 

* * *

 

 

Mycroft was in the library, frowning as he clicked his way through some files on a laptop and looking up as they entered together. "Ah - did you have fun reassuring the Moran boy that he wont be left out in the cold? If you could run along now Sherlock, this is important buisiness and you know how I feel about you overhearing…"

“Yes, endless fun and entertainment. There was an orgy in the street I’m sure you’re sorry you missed that.” Jim pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock’s jaw, dismissing him and irritating Mycroft at the same time. Something tickled his mind about the office, he’d seen it before obviously but he felt like he might have had a dream about this place the night before, he couldn’t remember anything specific except looking at the desk for too long upset him and he had a vague memory of being curled up and crying at the foot of it. How fucking weird. Jim decided not to sit at the desk and instead went for the drinks table, pouring himself a glass of something that looked expensive. “Do you want one?”

"I don't drink while I'm working." Mycroft said but it was automatic rather than malicious. He managed a small smile rubbing his forehead. "I am sorry about giving you a bad time over my brother. I think you can understand I feel a little... protective. Particularly after screwing him over so badly myself. He might act standoffish but he does have a heart and I'd rather you didn't break what's left of it. However." He snapped back into buisiness mode and handed over a USB stick, "That's for your boss. I understand if you want to take a quick look at the information first, just so you can check what you're supposed to be handing him. You found it in my computer while I carelessly left it unlocked during a trip to the kitchen, if he asks.”

Jim frowned as Mycroft smiled, he didn’t trust it but he did seem soft and genuine when it came to his brother. “He’s not a princess in a tower mate. Look, I get it but I’m not planning on going and breaking his heart. I didn’t… _seduce_ him or lie to him. The only person he knows who is anywhere close to matching his intelligence is his brother, I don’t really blame him for wanting to shag the first person he’s come across who is compatible with him. Sherlock’s plenty aware that I’m only here for the summer. I think it’s good for him to interact and have a relationship with someone other than you.” Jim took a drink from his glass while he reached out for the USB, glancing over it. “Does this mean you’re getting me a laptop? I haven’t got one. And I understand sir, was there anything else you need?”

"I'm sure you aren't doing anything on purpose. But he is... inexperienced in these matters and it is more than possible to fall for someone without intending to. Sherlock isn't used to separating enjoyment of sex and love for a person." Mycroft continued feeling more awkward - clearly trying to get through a concept that someone had maybe once explained to him. "It is... good for him to have a relationship. I'm not sure you are the person it is best for him to have a relationship with..." Flushing awkwardly he reached into the drawer and tugged out a shiny little new netbook. "This is for you. There's nothing on it expect what you'll need to read the documents but I suspect you'll soon change that. That's all I need for now.”

Jim shrugged, “I learned how to separate love and sex quickly, I’m sure he will do the same.” He was fond of Sherlock but that was as far as it would ever go. Enough that he didn’t want to hurt him but not enough that he was planning to keep up the relationship long term. “Do you say that because he’s older than me?” Jim thought it was rich that Mycroft was blaming him for this when Sherlock was meant to be the responsible adult in this equation. “We’ll keep things causal. And try and keep the noise down.” Jim took the laptop and finished his drink, setting the glass down on the bar.

"No, I say that because despite his age he is significantly less mature than you, not to mention significantly less used to casual buggery." Mycroft gave him a glare and then reached inside his pocket, pulling out a card, "Oh, one last thing. Doctor Hooper needs to see you again, not for physcial matters but for a few counselling sessions. You've been through a lot, and you are still young and significantly unprepared to cope with these issues. She just wants a few sessions with you. I'm not sure how useful they'll be but she did insist." He gave a small thin smile, "And she can be quite tenatious. Also a little scary. Do call her.”

Jim gave a mock glare at Mycroft, “You’re just trying to call me a slut as many times as possible in a day aren’t you?” He wasn’t bothered. Jim doubted very much that Mycroft had as good a time as Sherlock did last night. Jim recoiled a little, away from the card as Mycroft held it out to him. “Wh-what? You must be joking. There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m not crazy.” Jim bared his teeth, genuinely getting angry for the first time around Mycroft. “I’ve been coping just fine thank you very fucking much. I’d like to see you come out smelling like roses after the year I’ve had. I don’t need some kind of doctor to tell me I’m crazy.” Jim didn’t want to call her, he was nervous that Mycroft thought he needed to see her. “Did Sherlock say something to you? Seriously, they’re just nightmares, everyone has them.”

"I personally don't give a damn." Mycroft said crisply, keeping the card held out even as Jim recoiled from it. "As you said, you've had an incredibly fucked-up year and might possibly need some help dealing with it. She doesn't think you're crazy, just that some psychiatric help might be, oh for fucks sake." He sighed at Jim's expression and reached forward to push the card into his pocket. "If you were stabbed in the chest you'd get a doctor to stitch the hole up. I think being gang-raped in an attic for a week counts as a stab in the mind. She's not going to lobotomise you, or drug you up, just check how you're getting on and let you know what things to look out for. I don't give a damn if you're having nightmares, and I suspect she doesn't either - all she wants to do is help you learn ways to stop your mind from breaking down completely.”

Jim didn’t think he’d ever heard Mycroft swear so much, but he let the man put the card in his pocket. His shoulders went up defensively when Mycroft mentioned his time with Cyric and hew watched the man warily, waiting for him to weaponize the information he had and tear Jim to bits with it. He didn’t though, and that made Jim a little more comfortable with contacting her. “Fine. Okay. I’ll call.” Jim retreated quickly before Mycroft could think of some other torture for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: None


	13. Good Evening, Molly Hooper

He waited until the next day to talk to Dr. Hooper, and he texted her instead of calling, just to be obstinate. When she asked if he was available the next day, he told her no no, he was much too busy. So they scheduled their first meeting for Friday, and Jim spent the time in between trying different drugs with Sherlock and teaching him what he knew about fucking. He texted Sebastian a photo of them kissing with their shirts off and Sebastian replied only with a photo of his middle finger, his expression entirely unamused. Jim hadn’t told Sebastian about Molly, he didn’t tell Sherlock either. He was going to be seeing Magnussen that weekend, they were meeting at a local park because Jim couldn’t keep going from the house to the school without drawing attention due to the distance and how remote it was. When Friday came Jim sat expectantly in the household library with his hands folded in his lap and one ankle crossed over his knee. When Molly came in he did not stand to greet her. “Hello Dr. Hooper, I trust you enjoyed your drive? You can speak freely here, I had Sherlock comb the room for any audio or video recording devices. I believe he’s currently flushing them down the toilet. Do take a seat.” Jim indicated the couch facing opposite to him.

Molly looked at him, giving a small eye-roll and then sitting opposite him, tugging out a notepad and pen. "Alright, first of all you can call me Molly while we're in here, and I'm happy to call you whatever you like. I just wanted to clarify - this isn't about some deep psychological delving into the inner workings of your mind. We'll certainly try to talk about your father as little as possible. You really do need intense therapy, but I don't have the training to carry it out, and I suspect you don't have the desire to do it. All I wanted was to help you recover mentally from what happened to you, to give you helpful ways of thinking about it. You can keep pretending to be washing your hair when I ask to meet up or you can try and actually engage and maybe get something helpful out of this.”

Jim let the cheerful demeanor drop and he watched her for a long moment, his expression blank. “I see Mycroft has been running his mouth. Maybe we should start with what he’s told you, Dr. Hooper, and what you’ve deduced for yourself before we go any further. I’m sure you know the work I do for him is sensitive so I can’t blab things you don’t already know. Although he shows an unsurprising lack of concern over the privacy of my personal life. He’s just grumpy because I’m fucking his baby brother and we’re loud. It keeps him up at night, I imagine.” Jim tried for a little bit of shock factor first, mostly he was trying to throw her off balance, even just a little bit. She’d come in and tried to take charge and he didn’t like that.

Molly looked at him, her expression unimpressed at the information, "Jim, I've got no wish to be Hannibal Lecter'd by you. This isn't about the job you do for Mycroft, this is about negative behaviours and thoughts that you aren't happy with yourself going through and how we can stop those from happening. All I know is that Mycroft does incredibly sensitive things for the government and has limited time to deal with the huge amount of collateral damage that comes out of it. Your personal life isn't my concern unless you want it to be - for example if 'sleeping with Mycroft's brother' was a behaviour you wanted to examine and attempt to stop. You are in charge of these sessions, you are the one who has to put the work in. The very first session is about you deciding what you want to use these sessions for - what negative thoughts or behaviours you want to stop your body from repeating. I know you think this is a waste of time, but please do think about it, there are so many ways you can get a lot of use out of the limited training I do have.”

Jim grinned at the reference and made a slurping noise while wiggling his eyebrows. “I do love chianti… Why would I stop? He’s lovely and interesting and I get to share a room with him and there’s copious amounts of free drugs involved. Also it irritates Mycroft and Sebastian. I see no draw back. Well, except I suspect my foster-father has a crush on him and that’s very likely to blow up in my face at some point. Sorry, I digress…” Jim paused for a moment and when he spoke again it was more serious and less antagonistic. “I have a lot of people that want to manipulate me and one of their tactics is bringing up — shit, you know? And they try to threaten me and put me off balance by bringing that shit up. It works. How do I make it so that it doesn’t bother me anymore? You know, if they threaten me or touch me. They weaponize my trauma. How do I make it so it doesn’t affect me anymore?”

Molly hesitated for a brief moment, well aware that they were about to dive into something she wasn't at all trained to deal with, and then nodded and took out a piece of paper. "That is something I very much can help you with. Here..." On the paper she drew three cirlces, labelling them "Thoughts", "Feelings" and "Behaviour" and then drew a two-way arrow between each of them. "Your thoughts affect your feelings, your feelings affect your behaviour, your behaviour affects your thoughts again. Once that starts spiralling down, it's very hard to break. When people bring up your past trauma - I want you to write in how that makes you feel. You don't have to show me, but you do have to be honest otherwise, well, there's really no point. Then write in the thoughts that fill your head, and finally write in the way those thoughts make you behave. And then, we'll find a point on that diagram to slam down a portcullis and stop it from spiralling around.”

“That’s easy, I think that the adults in my life shouldn’t coerce me into doing shit for them. It makes me feel threatened, because that’s what’s happening, and in response I usually do whatever they want. If I don’t then — well, you saw what happened when I don’t do as I’m told. I’m very curious to see how your little graph will fix that.” Jim shoved the paper back in her direction. His attitude wasn’t the best but he didn’t like discussing this at all, especially because it was a weakness. But he _was_ engaging and he thought she should be grateful for that much. “I also have physical reactions — uh… not those kinds of physical reactions, but _nervous_ ones and I want that to stop. I don’t want to dream anymore. There’s some things that I’m not able to do anymore, sexually, that I want to get back. Can you help with any of that?” Jim challenged, his chin jutting out. He did want help, he wanted all of these problems to go away. The thing was, he didn’t think she _could_ help. To admit that she could meant that there were problems he couldn’t solve and Jim wasn’t ready to admit that much weakness, to anyone.

"No, not what do you think about them, what do you think. About yourself." Molly replied calmly, picking up the pen and hovering it over the paper under "thoughts" expectantly. She knew she shouldn't be pushing, that the job of the therapist was to help Jim to explore but he posibly needed a bit of a push. "Think of the last time it happened, probably, let's face it, with Mycroft Holmes. When he said these sort of things to you - maybe it would be better to start with what you felt. How did it feel. What feelings and thoughts were in your head just as it happened." She listened as he spoke and then nodded, "I can't stop your dreams, not without medication which I can get you for the short term if you want. This will help with nervous or anxious responses, yes. And, eventually, you'll be able to return to more normal behaviours, including sexual ones.”

Jim frowned and looked out the window in irritation, he didn’t appreciate the view of the grounds. “I don’t know. Mycroft’s not so bad, I guess the last time was after I started fucking his brother and he basically called me a slut over and over. That doesn’t bother me because it’s mostly true anyway. And he told me Sebastian can’t visit which is irritating. That’s not really a good example. Mycroft is good enough that he doesn’t have to threaten me because he has all of the cards anyway. My - uh… employer? Fuck I don’t know what to call him, that makes him sound like a mobster in a bad movie. He — you know, has a sex tape of me and that’s aggravating I guess. I don’t think he even tells me the truth anymore, he just thinks up what’s most likely to irritate me and says that. So he touches me and gets in my personal space and just does all of the usual things to try and throw me off balance. Some of it works, some of it doesn’t. He’ll leak the video or try and send me back to my father or give me to another shit head for playing with or he’ll get tired of me and have me killed. That’s about the gist of it. That makes me feel unhappy and pissed off and I’d kill myself but that would be letting him win and that’s just not on. That’s not really what you’re asking though. I don’t know how to answer you.” Jim huffed and knocked his head against the back of the couch. “When people bring shit up it feels like there’s a band… like a belt or something squeezing my ribs. It hurts to breathe. Sometimes I breathe too much or — you know. I’m sure you get the picture. Mostly I want to light everything on fire but I have enough feelings of self preservation not to.” He sighed and rubbed at his head. “I can’t take anything unless you’re getting it to me illegally. He has access to all of my medical records.” It was good to hear that eventually he’d be able to do stuff normally. “What’s the rules about — you know, not reporting shit? I know this isn’t a normal situation but… isn’t it like unless I’m planning on hurting myself or someone else future you can’t report it?”

"This is all off the record; any treatment I give you, any drugs I get you, anything you tell me. I mean you could literally tell me you'd buried a body in the shrubbery and there wouldn't be anything I could do about it. This is not in the system any more, you are barely in the system. Right and don't worry, that is _exactly_ what I need to hear." Bending to the paper she started to write. "You feel unhappy, you feel angry, you feel destructive. You feel desire to self-harm - so what keeps you from doing that? Breathing issues we'll stick in 'behaviour', that's not a feeling." Her voice began to get more animated as she got on track with the therapy and the theory of it. "This is what we need to get you an expert at. Right now all the thoughts, feelings and behaviours are mixed up in your head and you don't know what you can do about any of them. This kind of therapy is about realising that while your body will throw up feelings you can't do anything about, you can adjust your thoughts and behaviours to contain and minimalise them. You can become an expert on what is going on in your head and learn exactly how to deal with it so your body does what you want.”

Jim shrugged and rolled his eyes a little, “Dunno. Self preservation? Sebastian, I guess. John too. He’s already got a drinking problem now because of me, I don’t like to think of what he’d do if I did off myself. Mycroft swears up and down that after this I’ll get to live on an island somewhere but I think we both know it’s a lot more likely that my boss will catch me and have me tortured and dumped in a river somewhere.” He listened quietly, mind working while she explained. “That all sounds great in theory. So I can think my way out of getting the shakes or dreaming or getting sick? Sorry, sometimes that happens too. It’s rare though, that I get ill. It has to be really bad.” Jim watched her inscrutably and then said, “I did kill someone.” He mostly said it to shock her, if he didn’t like how she reacted then he could always tell her he was joking or trying to scare her.

"Shakes, bad dreams, feelings of nausea, that comes under behaviour." Her hand scribbled away, but paused as he came out with the last point. This was something far, far, heavier than she's expected but, coming from someone who worked with Mycroft, it wasn't maybe as surprising as it would've been. She paused for a second, feeling a strange disconnected thrill run through her. Carefully, she dug herself deep into 'therapist' mode and pulled out another piece of paper. "Is that a type of behaviour you want to stop yourself doing in future?" She said, her voice seeming to come from very far away. "Or are there thoughts and feelings related to that that you'd like to learn to deal with." She never would have guessed in a million years that she'd end up working with a murderer, helping him to deal with committing murder.

Jim scrutinized her carefully but eventually decided that she could deal with whatever he had to tell her, at least when it came to Carl. “No, it’s not a behavior I want to stop. I have a list, you see. It’s not that long, maybe ten names total. I believe that falls more under thoughts and feelings. It’s gotten better, since the investigation was closed and I haven’t had to worry about getting carted off to prison. I’ve accepted what I did, or at least I’ve started to. I still dream about it. It’s not the first time, I mean, I attempted to kill my father several times when I was a child.” Jim said, neglecting to mention that technically he still was one. “I tried crushing pills in his drink, that was a clumsy effort. Then I tried to cut his throat while he was sleeping, he’s got a scar on his chin from that, he woke up and moved out of the way. Then I cut his brake lines in the car but he safely maneuvered the car and walked away. I trust that you won’t be telling Mycroft about this.”

"I won't be telling anyone about this." Molly continued, still with a distant and professional voice, "However if it's not a behaviour you want to change then it isn't at all relevant to the therapy - although it is very useful to have as background information as an event that has shaped your development." She took out the original piece of paper and then looked at him. "Before our next meeting, I want you to start to categorise your thoughts and feelings and behaviours into the appropriate boxes. Start to recognise when you get feelings you don't want, and how that affects you. When we meet up we can then concentrate on examining how to prevent reactions you don't want. For now, shall we return to the first one we were doing - the way your body reacts when outside stimulus reminds you of unpleasant incidents in your past. You mentioned feelings of self-harm and suicide. Can we separate those out into how you feel, and what you think? For example 'apathy' might be a feeling, whereas 'worried about Sebastian' would be a thought."

He frowned a little, but nodded. “That’s… not easy. I always have feelings I don’t want. I said I was unhappy, didn’t I? I don’t think I quite understand what you mean by separating them into thoughts and feelings. I think it would be better to kill myself and I think that because I feel shitty all of the time. I feel trapped so I think ‘if I died I wouldn’t feel like that’ and then I remember Sebastian and John and I don’t act on it.” He rubbed at his face, feeling exhausted. “I need something from Sherlock’s stash after this, isn’t therapy supposed to make you feel better? You can come back on Monday if you’re available. I have a meeting with my boss this weekend, I don’t suspect it will be very eventful but you never know.”

"Once you can separate them, they will be so much easier to deal with. Like I said, at the moment you're overwhelmed by not knowing what things you can deal with, and what things you can't help. You will always have feelings you don't want, everyone does, but you need to recognise them - recognise what thoughts those feelings produce, and how those thoughts then make you feel worse, and then we can start stopping those thoughts and preventing negative feelings from getting worse. Therapy won't make you feel 'better', trust me, it's not whatever you're getting from Sherlock's 'stash'. It's hard work, and it's draining. It doesn't make you 'happy' - it teaches you how to function with unhappy feelings. And that is not a fun thing to do. It's far, far easier to not function with unhappy feelings. When you feel unhappy - that's a feeling. Trapped, tired, sickened and sad. And then those feelings make you think - they make you think you're not worth much, think you can't escape, think you have to force yourself to commit acts you don't want. And the only way you know to combat those is to put up miserly little excuses about your boyfriend and your guardian. Jim... this therapy isn't fun. It requires you to tug out the bits of your brain that you've been using to protect yourself and shout at them. It requires you to break down some of the old and bad defences you've been using to protect yourself in order to build new ones. It requires you taking some things you know are true and starting to realise they aren't true. And, yes, it will involve you having to sometimes convince me that they genuinely _are_ true because you live in a very different world to me. Lets start, for example, with the feeling of being trapped. This is a massive one, so we won't clear it today, but here - write down all the reason's you think you are trapped. All of them. And then we'll go down, one by one, and see how true they are. And then after that, we'll rewrite them, any that are left. And then you'll write down how the new list makes you feel.”

“Sebastian and John are the _only_ good things I have in my life, they aren’t miserly excuses you _bitch.“_ Jim stood over her with his fists balled at his side. She didn’t understand, they were the only things he cared about, he let himself be hurt over and over again for them and he wasn’t going to let her pretend like they weren’t important. He sat down angrily and pulled the paper towards himself, and scribbled furiously. _I have no say where I live so I’m in his field of influence, he has had me tortured, he has had me gang raped, he will rescind John’s custody, he’ll give me to someone else to be fucked and beaten as a party favor, he’ll have me killed, he has enough power and influence to get away with anything, he will hurt Sebastian or John, he will have me arrested for murder, he will release the video of me being gang raped and upload it onto porn sites, he will chain me up in and attic again for anyone to fuck, if I leave he can kill me or destroy any future I try and build for myself._  “…there.” Jim shoved the list back to her. “I don’t think I left anything out.”

Molly looked up at him standing and quietly said, "I'm afraid as a reason for prolonging your own life they don't count as wonderful excuses. I'm going to be challenging a lot of what you say, and you probably are going to be angry. I might even end up on the list, although I'd caution you against it." She watched the mad scribbles and looked at them, nodding. "Alright. Now you really will get angry with me because we're going to go through all of these and try and break them down. 1) No say where you live. Really? Because I think if you went to Mycroft and asked him to move you into a hotel right now, that could happen. I think you could run off to Spain right now if you needed to. While you're at school - do you live where he tells you, or with John? Could you live outside John's house in a tent if you wanted to?" She looked down the list, "John's custody we can cross out straight away, you aren't in John's custody. All the points about torture, rape, and party favours are the same point: he has power to hurt you that he has used before." She could feel her heart hammering. This was never pleasent to do with normal people, to stick needles into certainties, to try and help them break down safe walls they'd built of terror. With a psychotic little murderer it might be actively dangerous.

“They might not be wonderful excuses but they’re all I have, maybe you should consider that before basically telling me I don’t have a reason not to kill myself.” Jim snapped back. He understood what she was saying, that was fine. “The only people on that list are people that have raped and abused me, you’re not going to get killed just for pissing me off, calm the fuck down. I only killed the boy in self defense, I’m not a fucking monster.” He sat steaming and listened to her pick through the list but he calmed down. “It doesn’t matter if Mycroft moves me or not. As long as he has power he can track me down and number two comes into effect. It matters about John’s custody because if he gets angry and then tries to transfer my custody back to my father and finds out I’m emancipated number two comes into effect. Until Mycroft takes him down or someone blows his fucking brains out I’m stuck.”

"Number two is an event that has happened in the past, it can't 'come into effect'." Molly pointed out. "Number one is not strictly speaking correct, you very much could move out - I'm not talking about escaping him, I'm talking about moving into another flat and Mycroft saying that you fell out with Sebastain and then fell out with Sherlock or something. You have the power to change where you live. Number two and number three are past events that both fall under the same heading, 'he has hurt you in the past.' Number 3 is not relevant - yes I know you're worried he'll hurt you but that falls under number 5. Which is, admittedly, a very real reason to feel trapped. He has the power to hurt you. We'll change that to hurt / kill and put number six in with it. Hurting John or Sebastian - shall we assume Sebastian and John are adults and can look after themselves? You are not responsible for preventing them from being hurt. Besides, he could hurt them even if you _did_ do everything he asked. You know that. You know that his behaviour towards them is not dependent on you, it's dependent on what he thinks. The arrest - well - I'll check the legal status but if the case is closed it would be far more effort to reopen it than it would be just to frame you for something else. The video comes under blackmail - that is another valid point. The attic is the same as point 5. In terms of leaving - believe me I have seen Mycroft make far more important and well-known people than you disappear. If you want to leave, he'll get you out and you're clever enough to stay out. The reason you don't is the same reason you don't take the _other_ way out." She looked down at the list and then pulled another piece of paper towards her. "There are three things on this list, three reasons you have for feeling trapped: 1: He - and I still don't know who - has hurt you in the past 2: He has the power to hurt you in the future. 3: He has the power to blackmail you." She hesitated, deciding to leave the matter of killing off for now. "What do you think?”

“Very good,” Jim applauded her. “Trouble is that those are all still very good reasons to feel trapped, as you’ve said. Sebastian might legally be an adult but he’s not got the maturity of one, he needs looking after. John has taken up alcoholism because of these events and the hopelessness he feels because he can’t help my situation, I’d say he still needs protection as well. I understand what you are saying, I am aware that he could hurt them anyway, my hope is to not give him more motive to. He’s like the eye of Sauron, I’m trying to do everything I can to limit how often I put on the ring.” Jim smirked and shook his head. “That’s just what he can do. I still have a father who is involved in my life and would happily kill me if he wasn’t on a leash, a crazy squaddie who has a grudge I got him fired for sexually assaulting me, another crazy squaddie who is pissed I had him beaten badly enough he landed in the hospital for some weeks and dear Mycroft who doesn’t need to threaten me because all he has to do is let slip to my boss I’ve been fucking him over and he will take care of the rest without Mycroft ever having to get his hands dirty. So yeah, until he’s out of the picture I’m pretty well fucked.”

"Those are good reasons - but when I first asked you, you spilled out a whole torrent of things you couldn't deal with. Now we have three reasons you can start to think about dealing with. Sebastian Moran does need looking after, but he also needs to learn to look after himself and, admittedly, he's the son of a Lord with a huge house, two huge houses, a set-up career and all the food he needs. He'll _manage._ John took up alcohol a long time before you were on the scene, believe me. His problems run a lot deeper." She sighed and automatically glanced upwards to where Sherlock's room was. "I can understand you're... um... limiting how often you use the ring but I think in the process you're also now staying away from any form of jewellery and the sight of a pair of earrings throws you into a panic. Do you mind me asking - has your boss ever actually hurt John or Sebastian because of something you did?" She wasn't sure whether she was on the right track, but even if he had, it would be better to list and organise those threats rather than seeing it as a nebulous cloud of potentiality. She raised her eyebrow as Jim continued. "Let me get this straight - of the three people who caused you injury - one of them is 'on a leash', one of them has been fired and the other one ended up in hospital. You know, that doesn't sound like the actions of a trapped man to me. I'm not saying you're not in danger, but I am saying you really need to look at the feelings of helplessness and inadequacy you have and work out how many of them are based on thoughts we can destroy.”

“I understand and I see the value in narrowing it down and getting it concise.” He thought about it, trying to remember. “…He let Sebastian be hurt. He’s shown that he’s not immune just because Seb is the son of a Lord. And he tried to make me recruit Sebastian, I said no and ended up in your tender care… but they’ve never been hurt directly because of something I’ve done. Probably because he has more than enough to threaten me with and because I comply. I have no doubt that if I ran off and for some reason he couldn’t find me he’d be more than happy to hurt either of them in the hopes that it would draw me out.” He huffed a breath, frustrated that she didn’t understand. “Those things were all rewards for good behavior. That’s how it works. He gives me a job, I either do it and get a reward or I don’t and I become someone else’s reward. This thing with living with Mycroft means he’s going to give me the master copy of my time during spring break. He says it’s the master anyway, there’s no way I can know if he’s made copies. I could use it to prosecute anyway. I don’t think I would. Even if all the men were identified and convicted I think the average sentencing is three years, maybe five because I’m underage. I’m not trapped. I’m like a fish in a tank, I have some wiggle room but I have no where to go ultimately.”

"He let Sebastian be hurt - what - he set up a situation where Sebastian would be injured? Or did Sebastian do something stupid and get hurt as a result..." Molly guessed from what she'd found out about the injuries Seb had sustained. "He threatens you with it but has never carried it out - even when he was angry enough with you to send you to the... the attic? Now, we both know he's powerful, but you might like to just think about that next time you panic about Sebastian and John getting hurt." She listened, biting her lip, as Jim continued, "Unfortunately it's not the job of a therapist to understand the ways in which mobsters operate. It sounds to me as if this boss of yours is holding all the cards and making you jump when he asks. And that's not something I can help you with, that's not a situation therapy is going to get you out of, but I can help with the way you automatically respond to whatever he asks for. How do you feel? We can go through that as well. You're doing all of this now on the faint hope that he might give you what you seem only half convinced is what he's promising." She gave a small triumphant smile as he finished, "Wiggle room. I'll write it down. Now - when you feel trapped, when people threaten you, bring up your past, is that what you're thinking? Wriggle room? Are you thinking that at all? Do you think you could try to?”

Jim frowned and shook his head. “Both. He uh —“ Jim tried to think of a way to explain without totally giving everything away. “The man who was fired from his job was molesting Seb for a year, my boss had control of that, he knew, and he didn’t do anything. Seb was his reward for good behavior, as long as the squaddie did as he was told he got to keep doing what he was doing. That’s negligence at the very least.” He tisked in frustration, wishing that he could figure out how to explain it. “I’m sure he would have done it next if the attic hadn’t worked. I fell in line immediately after that because Mycroft told me to. I’m not doing this because of the tapes, that’s just a bonus. I’m doing this because Mycroft has promised to get me out as soon as I’m compromised and that’s about the only hope I have right now. If I didn’t have that hope of being hidden and relocated in Bermuda or wherever then Sebastian or no, I’d end this on my own terms. I never wanted to be a whore and that’s all he can use me for because he won’t give anyone else power. I have skills other than sucking cock.” Jim said heatedly. “I am aware of my wiggle room. I ask for more than he brings to the table. And he slaps me for being a demanding mouthy whore. I don’t exactly expect a Christmas bonus.”

"This is a very difficult thing for me to ask, but while he was molesting Sebastian, did Sebastian make any complaints?" She looked carefully at Jim, "Either public or private ones? Did Sebastian tell anyone else, could your boss have pretended he wasn't aware of it? This was all before you were even in the picture, wasn't it? So nothing to do with you at the time. Now - I'm not saying your boss was right, everything he did was completely and utterly wrong, but it wasn't to do with _you_ and there's nothing your _behaviour-"_ she tapped the paper "Could have done to change it." She listened as he spoke, wishing she could feel more sympathetic, but that would mean facing up to her own feelings about everything Jim had told her which at the very least would probably make her vomit, so instead she remained as a therapist. "I'm not saying you should act up, or act out, or try and irritate him. I don't mean physical negotiating room, that is very much _not_ the remit of a therapist. Mentally. Mentally, you aren't aware of it. When your boss leans close and calls you a whore and threatens your friends you are _feeling-"_ she tapped at the paper, "Trapped, scared, lost. You are _thinking-"_ she tapped again at the long list Jim had first written, "All of these, over and over, and that makes you _behave_ like a scared and cowed little boy. It makes you shiver, you feel sick, you think you're trapped, over and over. You need to crash down a wall in the middle of that. When you start feeling trapped you need to force yourself to think of these -" she tapped at the three point list with 'wriggle room' written next to it in loopy handwriting. "Think of the wriggles you've made, think of the power he doesn't have, think of the way he lies. Those thoughts then feedback into how your feeling - less panicked and anxious, more in control. I'm not asking you to slap him round the face and demand he gives you a flat in London. I'm asking you to change what you can change, and what you can change is how your mind responds.”

“I’m not trying to make this about me. All I’m saying was there was evidence that my boss was willing to hurt Sebastian if it meant keeping his worker happy. That’s fact. It’s not a stretch to think he’d hurt him again to keep him in line. It was a possibility. I’ll give it less thought and concern now, because I do recognize that it doesn’t have as much weight as his other threats.” He listened and followed her train of thoughts but wasn’t sure he thought that they could be helpful. He snarled at her defensively when she called him cowed. “I don’t understand. If my circumstances don’t change it won’t matter if I’m afraid or not. That doesn’t change that I’m being coerced and threatened. I do think that being more in control of myself is helpful, just not enough to change my circumstances.” He felt a little exasperated and finally burst out with, “Why did you contact Mycroft about seeing me?”

"If your circumstances don't change it won't matter if you're afraid or not? Really?" She looked at him and couldn't help a small smile, "And you absolutely are trying to make it all about you. It's one of your greatest defence mechanisms. Your life has been so chaotic, so crazy, that everything seems out of your control - so you try desperately to bring everything you care about into your own sphere of influence just so that you have _any_ control over it. You're blaming everything that happens to Sebastian, or John, and probably Sherlock as well, on yourself. That's actually incredibly normal in anxiety and panic situations - you're so desperate to grab control that you try and heap everything on yourself, and not only that, but then you feel safe when it goes down the road of you fucking up - because that's _also_ something you've heard all your life. That you will mess things up and when you do, you feel safe again." She fell silent as he snapped at her and sighed, "Because otherwise you'll self-combust. Because nobody else will see you. I told you, this experience won't be fun. It won't be me showing you the answers. It'll be me handing you a machete and then complaining about your technique while you try and hack through to the answers yourself.”

“So killing that person, was that just me exerting control then? You know my boss was so pleased about that, happy that I could do something other than bend over and let people fuck me, even if I totally went against assignment.” He brought that out again, hoping to throw her off balance now that she felt like she had him all figured out. “I think I’m doing pretty fucking well for myself, I don’t see what would made you think I need therapy.” Jim didn’t consider that perhaps she had seen his physical condition in the hospital and drawn her own conclusions about his mental state.

"I told you, this therapy isn't about finding reasons for everything you do - or about talking in lengthy ways about your father. This is about giving you what you need to help yourself stay upright and functioning given you've been through enough to floor most people. It's clear, frighteningly and obviously clear, that you've been through a terrible amount, the sort of thing that would drive anyone to needing therapy. I'm not giving you therapy because I think you're doing badly. I'm giving you some because you _need_ it - honestly do you know how you sound! You're like a man with a broken leg snapping at me that he doesn't need a _cast_ because he can _limp_ with no problem and he can deal with the pain just _fine._ I'm not saying you're mad. Quite frankly I don't care whether you are or not. I'm saying that there are things I know you struggle with and I can help give you ways of struggling less. I can't change your circumstances. I can't make your boss stop bullying you. But when he does, I can make sure you're in the best mental state to deal with it in the way _you_ want to deal with it. Not in the way your body automatically responds. The same goes for your behaviour with anyone else, yes, even when it comes to your sexual behaviour.”

He felt defensive and a little pouty about her little lecture. Jim didn’t like being told he wasn’t handling anything well. “So are you going to give me things I should do to cope? Like… I don’t know, count to ten when I get angry or something?” Jim blinked and tilted his head to the side, “Are you saying there’s something wrong with my sexual behavior? That it’s a reaction just like the shakes or feeling ill?” He pressed her.

Molly gave a groan, fighting to stop herself banging her head against the table, "I am giving you things to cope. If simple rituals could cure anxiety nobody would be anxious. It's not a simple process, it involves getting into your head and smashing down the negative cycles that you're in the habit of forming. And it involves doing that every single time you feel panicked, or anxious, or scared, or out of control. And it's _hard_ \- but I know you can cope with hard. Eventually, you'll do it so often that your brain will get used to doing it for itself. When your boss belittles you, or orders you around - I'm sure you'll still have to act well-behaved and do what he says, but you won't feel that inability to breath, it won't be taking over your whole body. Instead, your mind will be controlling what you do, not his mind. In terms of your sexual behaviour - I think what you said was that there were some acts you found difficult - you'll associate them with things that have been done to you. I can't magically make you enjoy... whatever... but you'll learn ways to stop yourself feeling so dreadful at the thought of it, then at the start of it, and hopefully through the entire act.”

“That’s… helpful. I understand what you are saying.” He hoped that _eventually_ would come sooner rather than later. He had a meeting with Magnussen this weekend. Jim would try some of these tactics with him and let Molly know how it went on Monday. “But you mentioned Sherlock earlier, you implied that my coming on to him in the first place had something to do with these coping mechanisms that aren’t actually good for me. So what you — you think that sleeping with him is a control thing?” It made sense, Jim just didn’t like thinking about it that way.

Molly managed a half smile and then shook her head, "I don't know about a control thing - but I do think it's a coping strategy. Look, here's some more theory for you. There are seven main types of coping strageties, here..." She handed over a leaflet. "Not all of them are healthy - projection, regression, reaction formation, denial and rationalisation those will get you into trouble. Others are clearly healthier: intellectualisation can help you, sublimation and displacement can be done correctly and work well. And others; repression and denial - well they can have a place in the short term. When you sleep with Sherlock, can you honestly say you're not doing it to try and displace or sublimate problems that you don't want to be feeling? I might be wrong, and we don't need to argue about it. But you should think about it.”

Jim read through the pamphlet while Molly spoke to him and explained what was healthy on the list and what wasn’t. Unfortunately there seemed to be many more unhealthy strategies than good ones. He could see all of them in his choices recently, some more than others. Mostly the negatives ones, although he always tried to be objective it wasn’t simple or easy when he got overwhelmed.

Denial: claiming/believing that what is true to be actually false.  
Displacement: redirecting emotions to a substitute target.  
Intellectualization: taking an objective viewpoint.  
Projection: attributing uncomfortable feelings to others.  
Rationalization: creating false but credible justifications.  
Reaction Formation: overacting in the opposite way to the fear.  
Regression: going back to acting as a child.  
Repression: pushing uncomfortable thoughts into the subconscious.  
Sublimation: redirecting 'wrong' urges into socially acceptable actions.

Wonderful. The thing with Sherlock only made him mad, not at Molly but at himself. It was frustrating realizing that nothing felt like his choice, the things he thought he had control over were really controlled by fear and not by his unbiased decisions. It really wasn’t objectively smart to be sleeping with his boss’s brother and his foster father’s… friend. “Okay… I think this is quite a lot to be started on. I can see you on Monday and let you know how my meeting went. Again, I’m trusting you won’t say anything to Mycroft.”

Molly nodded, considering it achievment enough that Jim wanted to come back for a second session, not to mention he was engaging pretty well with what she'd said so far. "Good luck with your meeting. I won't say anything to anyone, believe me. I'll see you again here on Monday, and if I were you I'd get Sherlock to do another quick sweep of the place for recordning equiptment. I wouldn't put it past him." Standing up, she held out a hand to shake Jim's. "Don't expect to be magically transformed when you walk into his office - and don't beat yourself up if the same old crap still happens. At least now we know what to look out for. Have a think about exactly what bits of your behaviour you want to change and we'll see what we can do.”

“I told Sherlock we’ll be having sex in here later and unless he wants his brother spying the room needed to be debugged. I’m sure I can tell him something similar again on Monday. He’s very bright though, honestly he’s probably already worked it out.” Jim shook her hand and led her towards the door. “I look forward to any improvements I might see. Good evening Molly Hooper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Some upsetting discussion typical of therapy


	14. Just Forget About Me, Okay?

Jim continued meeting with Molly a couple of times a week over the course of the summer months. He saw improvements despite his skepticism. The nightmares lessened, which was his biggest victory. Jim had already been in the process of healing emotionally and psychologically when he started meeting with Molly but he noticed that the progress seemed to increase. He’d even tired to give Sherlock a blow job but that was a pretty big fucking failure because as soon as he got his cock in his mouth Jim got the shakes and had to leave the room before he embarrassed himself. He was sure he was going to be sick but the nausea passed. He didn’t mention the incident to Molly. He saw Sebastian sporadically, not enough in either of their opinions. Jim thought what helped him heal the most was being away from that school, not needed to walk past Carl’s bunk every day, not seeing his father or Magnussen all the time. All in all both Mycroft and Magnussen seemed to be fairly content with his work. It was nearing the end of the holiday and Jim only had a couple more meetings with CAM scheduled. They were meeting at the park again, in a secluded wooded area away from security cameras.

Magnussen was waiting already when Jim arrived, giving him a small nod and holding out his hand, "Well, my little sparrow, what do you have for me this time?" He waited until the USB was handed over and then held it between his thumb and forefinger, "Hmm... another lot of information, it's all been so wonderfully useful. How did you get this one then? You really are a smart little thing, either that or Mycroft Holmes is getting careless. What's on it?" His expression was blank and unreadable behind the glasses.

“Emails. Sherlock helped me deduce his password. Very handy. I’m sure you know he changes his passwords weekly, so it won’t be good for forever but… it’s something anyway. Glad to be of help.” Jim wasn’t worried, Magnussen was usually inscrutable and they had fallen into a bit of a pattern.

 "I'm pleased you're finding Holmes so helpful with your deductions." Magnussed pushed the USB into his pocket and then stepped forward, gently sliding the back of his finger down the side of Jim's cheek. "It was a good idea, wasn't it, to use you as my agent. My little information collector. You're so much more you here than you would be bent over a table somewhere. Although - I believe a certain amount of table bending still occurs. You and Sherlock - does he required your arse every time he gives you a password?”

Jim raised an eyebrow and shook his head, smirking. It just so happened to dislodge Magnussen’s hand from his face. “I’m not the one bending over. Glad to see you’re finally finding a decent use for me. I hope you’re pleased with my progress. Do you have a present for me?” Jim wasn’t necessarily talking about the master copy, sometimes CAM brought him little tokens or snacks when he came out to meet him. 

Magnussen gave a smile, "Of course I have a present for you. Why wouldn't I have a little treat for my wonderful agent." He looked at Jim and then sighed slightly, stepping back, "You really have done remarkably well. I didn't guess the first few times we met at all, just took your pretty little information away, just like you wanted. It's been so... entertaining to watch you think you're getting away with it. You've grown more confident, more sure of yourself. If you were still working for me, you know, I'd be almost honoured." He nodded to the side and Jim's father stepped out, holding a taser and looking grim.

It became immediately apparent that something was wrong, Magnussen figured it out. Jim let him continue talking, starting to work out how close he was to people, that his phone was in his right back pocket. He was already reaching for it when his father stepped out from behind some trees. “Shit. Shit shit.” Jim was already running, turning and coming back the way he came. He wasn’t quite in the shape he’d been in at the beginning of summer but he was in good enough condition to make a mad dash for the open area of the park with families where he was safe.

"Don't even bother." Magnussen said tiredly, as Cyric appeared from the other side, swinging a fist before Jim could move far, knocking him down into a crumpled heap and then tugging the phone out of his pocket, groping all over his arse as he did so.

"Mmm... I should send Mr. Holmes a thank you card, getting my little bity whore back..."  

"Cyric!" Magnussen snapped, as Moriarty stepped forward and cuffed Jim's hands behind his back. "Don't be so rude. That's not what you're here for. Get him into the car. James - you'll take him back to yours, try and knock some sense into him before term starts. He'll be back in the barracks when it does, and Sebastian Moran will be in Eton. Then we can work out what use, if any, your son actually has to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jim had been knocked unconscious in the park but he came to as they started up the car. He was dragged back to the school. There he was kept not in the barracks or John’s building, but in his father's. Cyric didn’t molest him too much but when he did Jim frantically tried to remember his therapy with Molly. They didn’t allow him to contact anyone of course. He was beaten, badly. Worse than the attic. Cyric enjoyed caning him but he made sure to let Jim know that it wasn’t as good as his boyfriend. He spat every kind of abuse and slurs and threats at Jim while his father stayed mostly quiet in the corner. Moriarty didn’t say much to him but he didn’t fail to impress when it came with his creativity in regards to torture. He put cigarettes out all over his back, Moriarty told him he was mapping out the constellations and he’d dip his fingers in vodka before tracing the digits over the burns, drawing the constellations. Cyric scratched in “bitey whore” along his hip with a pocket knife but the cuts were shallow and Jim thought (hoped) they would heal without scarring. They kept him in the cuffs and one time when his father was holding a lighter to the bottoms of his feet Jim pulled so hard that it fractured his wrist. He’d screamed and as his wrist swelled and bruised they just recuffed him by the other hand. Mags took a look and decided they didn’t need to take him to a hospital. It would heal. A few of Jim’s ribs were broken as well and it hurt to breathe and to sleep at night. His body was a mass of bruises and burns and swelling and Jim mostly spent his time curled up on his mattress on the floor waiting for it to stop. School was about to start again and he had that fresh hell to look forward to.

Cyric had never really liked Moriarty, the man was no fun, and while he did enjoy similar things to Cyric he seemed to enjoy them all for the wrong reasons, added to which he was completely ruining Cyric's little sex-toy. Magnussen had asked him to leave before school started, but Jim was still far too injured for a proper goodbye. Sighing, he came over to where the boy was curled up on the bed, his breath rasping, not really taking in much. Cyric couldn't even tell if he was awake or asleep, he seemed to have found a way to sleep with his eyes open, or maybe he just never slept at all. Picking up a cloth he dipped it in antiseptic and laid it gently over Jim's back, pressing down against his injured skin, "How are you doing, little bitey whore, go on, give me a smile?" He patted the side of Jim's cheek fondly. "He won't let me fuck you, your dad, god knows why given everything else he does to you. I think you'd much prefer to put out, rather than go through all this shite. D'you think I could convince Mags to give you to me rather than making you stay here with him?”

Jim had been dozing but he slowly stirred to consciousness when he felt the pain in his back. For a moment his sleep addled mind thought his father was burning him again but it was Cyric, in bed with him, cuddling up and rubbing over his wounds with the alcohol. “Ow.” Jim pouted, keeping his back to Cyric. “I’m in better shape than you were after your fuck up this spring.” He shot back, his throat dry and hoarse and quiet. Jim was only in shorts and it meant he got chilly sometimes, he felt feverish. “He just doesn’t want me to be more of an embarrassment than I already am. You could try to talk Mags into it, I don’t know that I’d be unopposed given your track record of keeping hold of me.” Jim replied scathingly.  

Cyric gave a delighted little noise to find that Jim was still talking back to him, pawing at him arse and pouting a little, pinching at the welt marks lined across it. "Oh that was _fucking_ painful you were such a naughty boy doing that to me. Thought I was going to die at one point. You should see what I've got ready to stick up your arse in payment, it'll make the toilet brush look like your mums magic wand vibrator." He pinched and slapped at the skin, pressing his growing hardness against the back of Jim's leg. "C'mon... let me in and don't tell him and I promise I'll get him to go easy on you today, how does that sound hmm? No more burny-things? Maybe just a quick little beating and a few seconds underwater, then we'll even get you some nice food..." one fingernail scratched down between the curves of Jim's arse.

Jim tried frantically to remember what Molly taught him but that little graph seemed so far away and right now everything in his head was screaming at him to survive. If he could just make it another day, two, each one was another opportunity to escape.  He gasped and squirmed away as Cyric pinched at the welts, itching to slap him. Unfortunately he only had so far to go on the small twin mattress shoved in a corner and Cyric was up against him again, hardening against the back of his thigh and pulling his shorts over his arse to admire the marks he left there. “No. No, I don’t want you. You’re a liar Cervix.” Jim’s stomach growled loudly and he bit his lip, trying and failing to squirm away with Cyric’s finger a few seconds away from being half way up his arse. The worst part was it was fucking tempting. Cyric had hurt him terribly but it was something he was used to and something that wouldn’t do permanent damage. He needed food and water, that was a fact. And a few days to heal maybe. Jim bit his lip hard and slowly reached back to give Cyric’s hard cock a little fondle through his trousers.

"Goood boy..." Cyric gave a triumphant grin, squeezing hard against the back of his now naked arse and humping into the little hand squeezing him. "There you go, get me all hard and I'll fuck you open and you can be all pretty and cry and then afterwards I'll take care of you, yeah? Give you something to eat, tell your dad to fuck off and prepare for his lessons or whatever he does." Grinning, Cyric licked a stripe up the back of Jim's neck, and then slapped Jim's hand away, tugging his trousers down and pushing his hard cock between Jim's legs, "Alright little whore, bite through your lip yeah, cuz you'll wake the whole camp if you let yourself scream with - fuck!" He rolled away quickly as the door opened, tugging a blanket over his lower half and pretending to be asleep on the floor as the door opened.

John walked in, pausing in alarm as he saw Jim and Cyric, "Charles, what the _hell?"_  

He turned angrily to Magnusen who came in behind him and shrugged, stalking over to place a foot on the bulge under Cyric's blanket and pressing down with it, "Watson, please sort his wrist out. Do not worry about the rest of him. He's in enough trouble as it is.”

Jim winced, flushing in humiliation as John walked in with Magnussen and they were caught out. Fucking Cyric took his blanket so Jim had to tug up his shorts quickly to try and save as much of his dignity as possible. Cyric’s spit was still drying on the back of his neck and his wrist throbbed painfully from letting the man rut into his hand. He couldn’t believe he’d been about to do that. For what, not anything real. It was just trading one kind of pain for another and Jim wasn’t going to submit to Cyric for a hot meal. He enjoyed watching the man squirm as CAM stepped on his crotch, smiling sharply. Jim didn’t have much to smile about these days. Jim avoided looking at John but he licked his lips and muttered. “Can I have some water?”

"Oh god... yes... of course." John shot Magnussen a shocked and slightly frightened look, going quickly to the kitchen and coming back with a cup of water and a piece of bread. "Charles... please... can he at least come back to mine..."

"He would..." Magnussen's foot ground down and Cyric gave a pained hiss, "But unfortunately I checked the records a while ago and he's not in your custody. He's a free man. So he's staying here, with his father. Cyric if you must split him open at least have the decency to wait until I order you. If you break him on your own initiative I'll be most displeased."

John ignored them both, holding the cup up to Jim's lips gently, "Drink it slowly, my god what have they done to you?”

Jim got more excited than was strictly necessary when he saw John come back with a full glass of water and even something to eat. He watched John greedily but spared a glance for Magnussen. “If I’m a free man then I choose to stay with John.” He croaked, figuring it was worth a try at the very least. Jim ignored Cyric and Mags in favor of drinking deeply from the glass John held out to him, some of it spilled out of the corner of his mouth and ran down his neck. It was tricky with John tipping the glass into his mouth but Jim’s wrist hurt terribly and the other one was still chained to the wall. He tried to do what John said though and drank slowly. “'M okay. I think I’m grounded.” Jim pouted and then smirked, trying to get John to relax and lighten up.

"Oh do be quiet you have no choice." Magnussen snapped, giving Cyric a pointed-toed kick in the balls and then headed over to them, giving Jim a quick slap upside the head and watching dispassionately as the water spilled. When John went to refill it he grabbed Jim's broken wrist, leaning down to face him. "I'm not going to kill you. Do you understand what that means? It means despite all the pain and trouble and irritation you've put me through, despite my plans having to be put back, my organisation having to be rearranged, and the time I've wasted trying to get your stupid fuck-boy into Eton, I still think you could be worth something." He stood as John came back, watching him bandage up Jim's hand gently, "However you do need to be punished and you do need some of the stupid belief that you can pull one over me kicked out of you. You do as I say, when I say, and you'll stay safe. That is the only way you will stay safe. Understand me? John, finish quickly.”

Jim winced as he got slapped but he pouted a little too, Mags didn’t know how to take a joke. “Ow ow fuck…” Jim hissed, trying to pull away as CAM grabbed his fractured wrist and squeezed. Much of that he already knew but something in particular did catch his attention. “Sebastian is going to Eton?” He felt sad but mostly relieved. It was his original plan from Christmas. “You never did tell me what gave it away.” Jim tried, wondering what had tipped Mags off. What he was offering was… tempting. He didn’t have Mycroft’s safety net anymore, if he fucked up again Mags would kill him. With Sebastian safe at Eton and not complicating the situation that left Jim to play the long game. He could behave. For years if need be. Until he had the resources and the freedom to go into hiding. Jim could be perfect. Instead of answering, Jim leaned in close to John and smiled, “Hey… just forget about me, okay? Worrying isn’t going to help either of us. I think it’s best you move on. Leave John.” Jim wanted him gone from the school, wanted him to go somewhere out of Magnussen’s direct range of influence. Maybe he could pick up where Jim left off with Sherlock or adopt a kid.

"Sebastian is getting as far away from you as possible." Magnussen responded, patting Jim on the head. "If you are good, if you behave, if you can do a job for me, I'll let you have him back, how does that sound? Would you like a night with Moran? I could gag him, so you don't have to listen to him complaining about how much he hates being at such a posh, dull, school - although by that time he'll most probably be at a posh, dull, university."

"I'd like a night with Moran gagged!" Cyric answered eagerly and a little wheezily, folding over again with a laugh as Magnussen landed another kick in his crotch, "Fuuuuck..."

"No." Magnussen answered him severely, "You haven't behaved either. For now both of you are stuck with each other. Watson?"

John stood, sighing, and left another cup of water next to Jim, "Drink that as well. Just... good luck.”

Magnussen threatened him but it actually made Jim feel good. He’d missed Sebastian, like he’d miss a hand or a foot, but it was safer for him. For both of them actually. Jim tried not to be drawn into the picture Mags painted, it irritated Jim that he knew Sebastian that well. He held back his temper, taking vicarious enjoyment from Mags kicking Cyric again. John stood and Jim grabbed on to his shirt sleeve a moment, ignoring the pain in his wrist. “I’ll be around more once school starts. You should take more risks Watson, if you’re an unlucky fuck like me they don’t pay off but you’re a sensible chap. Don’t live with regret, yeah? Rejection’s not so bad, not compared to always wondering, you know?” Jim had probed Sherlock more on his feelings for John and he felt like Sherlock understood his desires more now. John had a decent shot if he’d only take the chance.

John looked at him in confusion, and then turned to Magnussen who rolled his eyes and clarified with a "Young Moriarty here has been having a large amount of enthusiastic sex with Sherlock Holmes. I believe he thinks you would enjoy it as well." John flushed brick red and left the room in a hurry leaving Magnussen behind to glare at them both, "Behave. Cyric - I want him able to at least look like he's participating in school when it starts."

Cyric gave a whimper and then rolled back towards Jim as the man left, "Huh, well, I can hardly fuck you now, can I? Fucking bruised my balls." Scowling a little he laid a hard slap over Jim's arse and then tugged his trousers down over it. "He didn't say I couldn't look. And he also didn't say I couldn't pay you back for those two kicks…"

“Why’d you have to do that?” Jim breathed so quietly that he was pretty sure Magnussen hadn’t heard him because the man left a moment later. He settled back down on his side miserably, feeling like crying when he remembered the way John treated him when he thought Jim had been with Sherlock. A moment later he went numb and decided it didn’t matter, Jim wouldn’t see much of John anyway. His loss. Sherlock had spent most of the summer talking Jim through creating his own memory palace and he spent a lot of time in it here, creating new rooms and sorting though information. Jim scowled as he felt Cyric wrap an arm around him from behind. “You knew he didn’t want you to. At least he fixed your blueballs. Now they are purple.” Jim snorted but fell short as Cyric slapped him and tugged his trousers down. It was fine. Jim would be good. He’d be good and get out of here.

 Cyric smacked him a few times, but grew bored of a chew-toy that wasn't responding and eventually went into the bathroom to have a loud wank. Moriarty walked in as he completed and gave him a look of utter disgust, his face not getting any more impressed as Cyric did a fake-swing at him, stopping before he hit James's face and then scowling, "Jesus, can't have fun with anyone today can I. Watson bandaged his hand up. CAM says go easy on him so he can actually start school. I'm still not allowed to fuck him... huh my cock'll drop off at this rate...  John's still fucked up about that kid he went all gaga over, remember? It's fucking sad.”

“Touch him again and I’ll break out my crowbar again and beat your cock with it till it’s bloody pulp.” He pulled out a cigarette for smoking, looking at the connecting door where Jim was probably sleeping. “I ran in to Charles on my way here, I know. He’ll do fine. Watson is soft and fucking pathetic, I don’t even know why Charles bothers with him. Now get the fuck out of my bedroom.”

"Oh yeah, just you try..." Cyric snarled, turning away and heading for the door, "I was two damn seconds away from getting inside him raw before CAM did his fucking appearing-act. You'd have heard him then - your useless little kid squealing while I fucked his brains out." He gave a kick at the connecting door as he left, storming out in a temper, annoyed that he wasn't allowed to fuck _anyone_ anymore and wondering whether it would be worth the fall-out to hire a rent-boy.

 

* * *

 

 

Jim started school again, somehow he wasn’t exempt from morning exercises but Darren actually took pity on him as soon as he saw Jim get undressed in the locker rooms. The other boys didn’t want to be near him. He was actually moved down two years, back with his proper age group. Sebastian’s class was graduating and Mags wanted an excuse for Jim to stay within an immediate field of influence for a few more years. The excuse was that Jim had done poorly in his classes the year before. He didn’t argue or complain. His new group seemed like children to him now and they were all terrified of him, most of them were when they saw the state of his face, but everyone else was traumatized by the state of his body without clothes on and most of them remembered the rumors about him and Carl. Jim slept in his father’s home still. Anytime he wasn’t directly in class he was escorted and chained up to the wall unless Cyric or his father were directly guarding him. The first time he saw Lestrade Jim thought the man would get sick and the sergeant spent class tim avoiding looking at Jim at all. That door was closed, apparently. The first week went by and Jim was almost getting used to moving around with the injuries, he’d healed some during the break Mags gave him. Now Jim was sleeping, lights had been turned off a few hours ago and he was curled up on the mattress with his blanket pulled tight around him. He startled and woke when he felt a hand cover his mouth and Jim looked up in confusion to see Cyric hovering over him in the dark.

Cyric was surprisingly light on his feet for a man almost six foot tall, and had worked out long ago how to break into most of the buildings on the campus. He let himself into Moriarty's house and crept over to the mattress, gently shaking Jim awake with one hand over his mouth and giving him a grin. Bending down he whispered, "Alright pretty thing, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to keep quiet. I mean, you could scream, but lets face it, I'll be out that window before _he_ gets here and then he'll be standing here angry, holding a crowbar, and looking at you." Sitting down next to Jim he groped under the blanket and petted at Jim's bottom, "I even bought some lube to make it easier for you to keep quiet, and I'll stuff your panties in your mouth, how about that? 'Nd I bought you a chocolate bar." Carefully he removed his hand from Jim's mouth and tugged a Mars Bar out of his trouser pocket, waving it in front of Jim's face, “Deal?"

“No.” Jim shook his head and glared at Cyric in the dark. He was not going to be bought for a fucking candy bar. Jim got to eat at least once a day, sometimes twice if they didn’t make him skip too many meals at school. Jim wasn’t that desperate. It was a little disturbing though, the way Cyric talked like he’d been so thoughtful to bring lube and candy. “Get the fuck out. My father’s not like you, he doesn’t just go off when he loses his temper. He’s been given orders and he won’t hurt me unless he’s told to. You’ll be the one in trouble. If you leave now I won’t call him.” Jim used Molly’s tricks to analyze the situation and what wiggle room he had.

Cyric stared at him for a moment, looking genuinely confused at why a mars bar and the promise of lube hadn't been enough to tempt Jim into sex, and then growled. Pouncing, he shoved a rag into Jim's mouth, tugging a roll of duct-tape out of his pocket and sticking it over before Jim could make too much of a noise, glaring down at the terrified eyes above it and hissing, "Well fine then. The hard way. With no lube. Or chocolate." Wrestling with the smaller body, and swearing whenever he got kicked or elbowed, he rolled Jim over, pinning him down and duct taping his arms together as well. Wrenching down the thin pyjama bottoms he gave a satisfied look at Jim's arse, bending to bite down at his ear lobe and draw blood. "Bet you wish you'd gone for the easy way now..." he purred, getting his cock out and tapping the head against the small puckered entrance, "Because this is going to be fucking rough for both of us. Maybe next time, hmm? You'll cooperate a bit more?" With one hand he prized Jim's bucking arse apart and then thrust hard at the tiny entrace in the centre, practically yelping himself, "Fucking hell that's tight, fucking _relax_ you little shit…"

Jim yelped as Cyric taped his mouth shut and then taped his injured wrist to the one already handcuffed to the wall. He couldn’t move, despite how hard he struggled and kicked. He never stopped yelling into the gag, even though the noise was negligible he knew his father was a light sleeper and he might wake up. Jim rattled the hand cuff loudly against the metal bar, clanging them and making noise that way. Jim screamed into the gag, squeezing his eyes shut as the familiar pain spread from his arse to his lower back until it sparked behind his closed eyes. He wanted to be sick but Jim desperately swallowed it back, not willing to choke on his own vomit with the gag in his mouth. Jim knew he needed to relax but no matter what he tried it hurt too much and he continued struggling. After a minute or two Jim retreated deep into his memory palace, to the room where he kept memories of Sebastian, those few weeks when they’d lived together in John’s house. They’d cuddled up and drank and slept the weekends away, having sex and driving each other mad. He could remember what it felt like to be perfectly at ease. Though Jim wasn’t aware of it his body slowly relaxed until he was completely limp, his red glossy eyes stared blankly at the wall as he was jostled forward rhythmically it wasn’t enough to dislodge him from his memory palace where he remembered what it was like to feel safe. 

Cyric gave an annoyed sort of grumble as Jim fell limp but continued fucking him until with a last final thrust he spilt deep inside the young man, tugging out with a little noise of relief. "You are dull. You were more fun back in the attic. Your goddam boyfriend was more fun back in the attic, do you have any idea how much I wanted to fuck that hot firm muscular little arse after I'd striped it? He would've cried so hard they'd have thrown his fucking ancestors out of the house of Lords. Damn." He sighed and shook his head at the mess he'd left behind. "Well now you're bleeding everywhere. Are you... fuck are you even alive?" Tugging the gag away from Jim's mouth he knocked the side of his face a few times, frowning and then sloppily kissing the side of his cheek, "Alright pretty whore - next time be a good boy and take the damn chocolate.”

Jim stayed locked away where Cyric couldn’t find him, he didn’t hear the cruel things that the man said about Sebastian. Jim didn’t back to his body until Cyric smacked him and then kissed him. He felt empty and like he’d been concussed even though everyone had been careful to avoid hitting his head. “Get the fuck out.” Jim whispered raggedly, staying perfectly still and not looking away from the same spot on the wall. He could feel the blood and come leaking out of him but there was nothing to do. Jim would just lay in the mess until someone came to get him in the morning. Everything hurt so much. He took in a shuddering breath, being very careful not to set off any tears. Jim wasn't going to cry about stupid shit he saw coming from a mile away. 

Cyric scowled and then threw the mars bar down in front of him and scooted out of the window, grumbling as he went. He had no idea whether he'd got himself into more trouble or not.

Moriarty was the first person to find Jim, coming out of his bedroom and stopping in front of him, looking suspiciously at the unlocked window and the mess Jim was lying in. He shook his son awake and cut away the duct tape and uncuffed him, helping Jim to his feet and shoving a clean towel at him. “Go wash. Get dressed and I’ll escort you to your first class.” He wrinkled his nose at the blood that had soaked into the mattress. “Fucking disgusting.” Moriarty flipped the mattress over to a clean side and took all of the bed things for washing. He knew what had happened, he’d actually heard Cyric during the night with all the noise Jim made but he decided not to intervene. His bed had been comfortable and then he’d have had to go wake up CAM. No. If he cared that much, the man could check in on Jim himself, it wasn’t Moriarty’s job to keep track of Cyric. As long as Jim couldn’t escape it wan’t his concern. Besides, he knew CAM was going to let Cyric fuck him sooner or later. It had just been sooner. He took the candy bar off the floor, opened it and took a bite. “Well. Get moving.”

 Jim stared at his father, not really comprehending that nothing was going to happen. He’d been counting on being found and Cyric being confronted and stopped. Now it looked like his father was just going to sweep it under the rug, it would keep happening. He clutched the towel while he covered himself carefully, Jim wondered if he should be angry but instead all he felt was disappointment and hopelessness wash over him. “Yeah. Sorry.” He limped to the washroom for his shower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Descriptions of abuse and torture, rape


	15. You Want a Bite?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, thank you so much for all the comments they have really inspired me to continue to get chapters out. Unfortunately the last two segments are all in one 100,000+ word document on my computer, so there will be more work involved -- dividing them up into appropriately long chapters and all the normal editing that goes into this so probably expect updates to be a bit slower. The next chapter starts with a time skip -- if I remember right it's five years, so I hope you are excited and you enjoy it when it comes out.

Cyric left him alone for the next week but after there was no response from Moriarty or CAM he crept back one evening the next week. He didn't even bother to bring a chocolate bar this time, although he did use a minimal amount of lubrication just to take the edge off the friction from his own end. The next week he came again and took exactly the same, growing use to Jim being limp and unresponsive as he thrust into the small delicate body below. It was a month after that first time when Magnussen stormed into the middle of a training session, pointing at Jim who was struggling across a pair of parallel bars and snapped, "You. My office. Right now." He refused to say anything further as a confused Darren helped Jim down and gave him a worried glance as he limped off.

Jim lost more and more sleep as Cyric’s night time visits continued, there was no set time or day he would come visit so Jim often ended up staying awake out of fear and anticipation. It felt like anytime he’d start to heal Cyric would tear him open again and Jim got used to limping to where he needed to go. Once or twice he’d seen John peering out at him from the windows but like Lestrade he seemed to have given Jim up. That was good, maybe soon he would leave the school. Jim’s wrist was better but he still needed the bandages. Parallel bars were fucking murder, but then just about all exercise felt incredibly painful because of his injuries. Darren was thoughtful enough to help him down instead of making Jim drop into the pool of water. Maybe he just didn’t want Jim dripping on Mag’s rug. Jim limped after Magnussen as fast as he could, whispering. “I didn’t agree to anything or come on to him. You can’t expect me to defend myself when my body is one big fucking bruise except where my skin is burnt off and I’e been handcuffed to a bloody wall…”

"What are you talking about?" Magnussen snapped, striding into the office and waiting impatiently for Jim to follow. Once inside he picked up his mobile and then looked Jim over, "You look utterly dreadful. What on earth has happened to you. It doesn't matter. Listen." He pointed the mobile at Jim. "Sebastian Moran has run away. The stupid boy has joined the army. If he goes through his training he will be sent out to the Middle East almost immediately where there is a high likelihood he'll get shot or killed. He is no used to me killed. I have the training base on hold, I will call him, you will speak to him, and you will get him back, understood?”

Jim’s jaw dropped open, part of him was thrilled that Sebastian was getting away, far out of Mags’ scope of influence and part of him was hurt that after two months of being missing Sebastian was already moving on. He nodded automatically. Jim just wanted to hear his voice. “It might take a bit of time. One phone call but it won’t be an instantaneous thing. It needs to be handled delicately, you can’t rush me.”

"I don't care what it takes, he is more important than you right now. Get him back." Magnussen snapped handing the phone over.

A bored sounding posh voice on the other end asked Jim to confirm his name and then suddenly Sebastian was on the line, the familiar voice gabbling excitedly, "Jim! Fuck mate, you have no idea how long I've been trying to fucking get in touch with you. I even got halfway to back to the barracks before Holmes had me dragged back. None of your numbers work or anything... look 'M sorry I fucked off but I couldn't stand it there - what?" Someone was laughing on the other end of the phone and Sebastian laughed back with a "Yes it is my boyfriend actually so up fucking yours... yeah and he put the last bloke who annoyed me in hospital." More laughter and then he was back concentrating on the phone, "Jim... can I use this number? Will it work to get back to you?”

Jim sagged in the chair and covered his eyes with one hand, ducking his head so his expression of twisted grief was hidden from Magnussen. Fuck this was hard. He let Sebastian talk for what was probably too long without saying anything. Jim just wanted to listen to his voice. “Good for him. Don’t come around here anymore, you hear me? I’m your boyfriend now, hmm? When did you go and decide that. N-no this is Magnussen’s cell, you can’t get ahold of me. I don’t have a phone or laptop or anything.” Jim’s shoulders started shaking with the strength of his desire to tell Sebastian everything, to hear him promise to come get him, but that wouldn’t fix anything. He had to be reasonable. It was better like this. “What are you thinking, joining the army? I don’t remember giving you permission to do that.” Jim’s voice was teasing and light, not giving away everything he was frantically burying so that he could complete this call successfully.

"Ugh I know... but I couldn't stand that fucking school, Jesus Jim have you ever _been_ to Eton? And then they were going to send me to Oxford to do politics... I mean yes I could just fuck around for three years but what would be the point in that? Here I'm being useful, and they treat me properly, _and_ it turns out I'm pretty fucking ace with a rifle." He hesitated, "Magnussen's cell - is he listening in? If he can here you, say... fuck I don't know... call me Sebby... yeah? And if you want me to come and shoot him through the head at 500 yards say 'I love you.'" There were catcalls from behind him followed by the sound of a slap, "Heh. it's fucking amazing here Jim, there's a great bunch of fucking idiots. Don't order me to go back…"

Jim knew he shouldn’t compare their situations but it was really fucking hard to be sympathetic when he was getting sporadic visits from Cyric in the night and he was going to have those scars on his back for the rest of his life. “Sebby, come on. Don’t act like any of them are going to be as good as me. I hate you, you know that?” It came out light and teasing but Jim wanted to have the opposite code to Sebastian. “I know you’re fucking ace. I don’t want you to leave, aren’t you going to miss me?” His voice was whiney and Jim knew it would be a tip off to Sebastian that he didn’t mean the things he was saying, but Mags hadn’t spent time around the both of them together, already thought of Jim as a whore. It wouldn’t tip him off.

Sebastian waved his hand irritatedly at the other cadets around him who, sensing that the show was over and that Sebastian Moran was not about to initiate phone-sex, sloped off. "Right, I understand." He murmured back. Magnussen was listening, and Jim didn't want him up there. "You say what you need to boss, and I'll stay put, yeah? 'Sebby' means Mags is listening, 'Seb" means you want me back, I think I can remember that. He lowered his voice and murmured, "Missing you like hell, Jim, not letting anyone else so much as look at my cock while you're not here. We'll be back together soon, I promise, in a goddam bath together, just you and me, yeah?”

Jim curled up in the chair with his knees pressed against his forehead to hide his face from Mags and the tears on his cheeks. Fuck letting him go, knowing what Jim was going to have to do on his own now, was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. “Not now Seb.” I don’t want you back now. “You should wait for the right time. You have your whole future ahead of you.” Jim paused while Sebastian spoke about staying faithful. “Well I’m not able to do that. You know it’s going to be awful difficult to do if you share showers and bunks?” His throat tightened up and he had to clear it before he could speak again. “I — yeah I want that. I want it so fucking bad. Sebby we can do that again. You just need to do what I say. I want you to come home Sebby. This is a stupid idea. I want you back.”

"I know I share showers and bunks, I've been oggled a good few times, heh, had it offered a good few times, randy sods, but I can hold them off." Sebastian whispered fondly back. He gave a smile and a nod as he heard Jim say his name. "You sound like shit, you poor little sod, hang in there. I'm waiting for you." He would have longed to stay on the phone longer, but he could hear the whistle outside, and was getting odd looks from the man at the desk next to where the phones were. "Alright, I've got to scoot. Call back whenever you can yeah, and I know it's not your fault if you don't." With that the line went.

The line went dead and Jim’s shoulders shook as he held in the emotion he felt, the wave of abandonment and the knowledge that Mags would abso-fucking-lutely kill him for this. Jim could spin it though, maybe he wouldn’t have to find out right away. Jim could buy Sebastian more time. The phone was dead but Mags didn’t know that. “Oh, oh good! Fuck I’m excited to see you. That’s right. Wonderful. I love you too, goodbye.” Jim wiped at his face to clear the tears away before handing the phone back to Mags. “He’s agreed to come back and finish out at Eton on the condition that he gets to see me as soon as he can get here.” Hopefully that would be enough to cover him. If not… Sebastian was safe. That would have to be enough for him.

Magnussen looked at him for a long time and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "He better be. Hope for your sake he is because that was a piss poor attempt at convincing him. You could've cried, begged, ordered, told him what a state you were in. Instead you just curled over and whimpered at him." He shook his head and then patted Jim's "Back out to training. Now. I'll call the training school and arrange his travel details.”

“He already agreed, I didn’t have to do any of that more extreme stuff.” Jim sniffed and shook his head. “Please, I need some sleep. I’m in pain. Just let me go back to my dad’s.” He was miserable right now but he didn’t want to spend the possibly last hours of his life running around that field when he’d been raped in his bed the night before and could hardly walk. “I did what you wanted.”

Magnussen walked closer, placing a hand on the side of Jim's face and then slowly licking his tongue up the other side. "We could make this easier." He murmured, "I could play the recording of that message right back now. Hear what dear Sebastian Moran actually said. Or you could tell me the truth." He had no recording, and he mostly believed Jim, but there was no point in leaving things to chance. "And then I can decide whether you should go out to train or go back and have a nice rest in bed - with Cyric there to keep you warm, hmm?”

Before his sessions with Molly that might have worked, but Jim was wise to his patterns, he’d organized and broken down his meetings with Magnussen in his mind palace and saw the pattern. Do something to put a person off balance and then feed them a lie. Magnussen licked his face and Jim realized he was tasting what was left of his tears. “I am telling the truth, why would I lie to you? You think I want to die for that stupid rich boy who didn’t want to stay at his posh little boarding school?” Jim shook his head and stepped away from him, “Please. I just want to sleep. Why does he get rewarded when he breaks your rules, huh?”

Magnussen looked at him and then gave a small smile. "Go and sleep. You've done well. Cyric won't bother you again, and I'll even get you a night with your Sebastian Moran, hmm? Just the two of you. I can hire a hotel room. I might have to put a little camera in it but I'm sure that won't stop you." He smiled and patted Jim's backside as he left, "The things men will do for this, yes? The army was Sebastian's dream but for you he is willing to throw it aside and waste his life as a third-rate politician.”

“I - I would really like that.” Jim could create a scene in the hotel room in his memory palace, something he could think about. They’d be in the hotel bath. Magnussen patted his arse and Jim turned to grin at him. “Are you afraid to have a taste yourself because you worry you’ll be drawn in?” Jim made more of a frightening picture than a seductive one. His eyes were red from crying, his face was puffy and there were deep bags from not sleeping. His expression was bitter.

Magnessun looked down at him and then raised an eyebrow, "I do not want a taste because you are not really very attractive. You can draw in lesser men, with charms and guile and youth. But not me. Now go and sleep before I change my mind.”

Well that was fair, Jim looked like he’d been run over by a car, _he_ certainly wouldn’t have fucked himself. “Yes sir.” Jim ran off quickly before Magnussen could change his mind. He was just impressed with himself for getting anything at all. Wiggle room.

 

* * *

 

   
For the next two days Cyric was kept away and even James Moriarty left his son alone. Darren was already treating Jim like glass and seemed to be almost concerned even if he didn't actively do anything to help him. Then Magnussen turned up in Morairty's house one evening, knocking loud and irritatedly clinking Jim's chains, "Your dog isn't coming to heal Moriarty - no not you, the semi-useful one." He snapped at Jim's father as he undid the wrist cuff. "Talk to him again and try and be a bit more convincing. Hurry, he's on the line.”

Jim reached for the phone greedily, knowing this would really be the last time. “Hey basher. What the fuck is this I hear about you not coming home? Sebby I need you, he’s hurting me… I thought you loved me?” Jim laid it on thick for Magnussen who was listening in.

"Jim!" Sebastian sounded delighted again, after so long panicking and arguing, fighting and trying almost every phone number he'd found in Mycroft's possession (almost starting at least one war) he was finally getting to speak to Jim, not just once but twice. "Ha - beat my own record yesterday at the practice range, I am getting fucking good with a gun. You remember what to say if you want me back yeah? Ha. I know you do. You sound a bit better this time, are you eating alright?”

“Oh course I fucking remember, how could I forget?” Jim asked, making it sound like some cherished memory. He turned on the tears this time, they weren’t difficult to find, and he let his crying infect his voice. “Please. Don’t leave me here with them. Sebby I just want to see you! They aren’t feeding me much and I’m beaten every day.” Jim glanced at Magnussen to check and see if he was up to standards. “Sebby I want you to come home right now. That’s an order."

"You better be fucking joking even if the twat is listening in." Sebastian growled as Magnussen gave a nod at Jim, letting him know he approved of this. "And as soon as you need me boss, I'll be there. Soon as you want me to come - I'll bring a gun, how about that? One bullet for him, one for your dad, then I'll sweep you off and you can take a nice long look at all the muscles I've gained as a squaddie hmm?" He left gaps as he spoke, listening to Jim on the other end, trying hard to remind himself Jim was acting. "Heh - they've been teasing me for having a boyfriend. I can sort them out though, half of them are just jealous I refused their blowjobs. 'nd it's not like back at school, god that school's fucked up isn't it? They respect me pretty good here, even if I am posh and twatty.”

“You’re right, see, you understand. That’s not what I want Seb.” I’m joking, you get that. I don’t want you to come back. At least Jim had Mags’ approval. When Seb still said no maybe it would be enough. He laughed wetly, gasping for breath around his sobs. “I broke my wrist, they won’t let me see a doctor. Cyric and my father are here. Please please please Sebby. Don’t be like that… I can’t sleep at night because he sneaks into my bed and he hurts me, I just want it to stop. Sebby if you don’t come back I’m going to hurt myself. I don’t have a reason to live if you don’t want me anymore.” Jim threw a wink at Mags to make it clear that wasn’t true.

Sebastian gave a groan and banged his head hard against the desk. Jim was lying, but he had no idea what about. How much of it was true or how much wasn't? All he knew was that he was being told to stay put and so he would, completely, until ordered by Jim to go and see him. "Fuck this is killing me Jimmy. I know, I know what you want me to do but - fuck I don't know how much they're doing to you. Love you boss." And with that he hung up, not able to take any more. Magnussen raised an eyebrow at Jim, also not sure how much of this was lies or the truth, but nodding, happy Jim was at least trying.

Jim suddenly went quiet as Sebastian hung up the phone and there was something like finality hanging in the silence. He cleared up his face with his blanket and tossed the phone back in Mag’s lap. “He told me he doesn’t love me anymore, that he’s plenty popular where he’s at and he doesn’t need me. I can’t help that, I tried everything you told me to and more.” Jim still wrapped the blanket around himself tight and curled up in a ball protectively, expecting to be hurt.

Magnussen frowned and looked at the phone in his lap, "That is... unfortunate." He wasn't sure he believed it, but then Sebastian had hung up very suddenly, and there hadn't been nearly as much shouting from his end as possible. Maybe Moran had decided that things were a lot simpler without Jim in his life. Standing up he sighed, "You see my problem - your value, Moriarty, is the power you have on men. If you're losing that... what good are you to me? I don't _want_ to treat you as a whore, but what else is there to do with you, and Cyric needs _someone_ to fuck or he goes feral." Coming over he raised a hand, watching Jim's reaction and then lowering it to pet his cheek gently. "Come stay in my office. Tonight. But then you will have to go back to your fathers, and I am disappointed with you.”

Jim nodded numbly, feeling that familiar conflict of success - he wasn’t going to be killed - and dread, because Cyric was going to fuck him on Mags’ orders. As often and as brutally as he wanted. When Magnussen left Jim curled up on the couch and tried to apply Molly’s graph to this situation with Sebastian. He wasn’t able to escape the feeling of oppression and hopelessness that overwhelmed him. Jim had no way of knowing but it would be years before he would be able to speak with Sebastian again.

Magnussen worked through the night, as he usually did, looking up at a knock on the door. Getting up he headed past Jim asleep on the chair and opened the door to Cyric grinning outside holding a bunch of flowers. Magnussen looked him up and down and then sighed. "You are a very strange man. Go on. Don't kill him. Otherwise take what you like. And don't pretend I don't know that's what you've been doing at nights. If he was more important, you'd be in trouble." With that he left, locking the door behind him and leaving Cyric inside.

 

* * *

 

 

The gifts stopped eventually, Cyric figured out that Jim wasn’t going to fight him and then stopped bothering with trying to win him over. Cyric tried to provoke him into a reaction, ether tears or anger or lust but Jim was unmoved, even when Cyric made him come. It went on like that for a full month longer, with Jim slowly sinking deeper and deeper into his memory palace. He stopped doing any homework or even making a show of participating in morning exercises. Jim’s body healed and was laid over with new marks every day, he felt like a constant cycle of blacks and blues and purples and greens and yellows. He went numb, nothing could reach him, nothing could hurt him when he was like this. Jim was pinned under Cyric, on his back with his hands taped together in front of him and his legs spread with his knees practically touching his ears. It felt like he came back to himself, just a little bit. Jim hadn’t even consciously realized he was being fucked right now and for the first time in weeks there was a spark of intelligence behind his eyes.

Cyric had been willing to try gifts at first, even expensive ones, and then moved to threats, attempted compromises, and finally just sighed and used him like a fleshlight that bled. Magnussen wouldn't let him have anyone else and Cyric suspected that both of them were being punished. He offered that observation to Jim but the boy didn't even seem interested in that. It was dull and repetative, and Cyric had almost tried to get it over with each time as quickly as possible, except for some reason this time Jim stirred and Cyric gave a little pleased mew, "Mmm... coming back little whore? C'mon, you don't even try and bite me anymore. Give us a bit of a fight, yeah? And maybe I'll stop badgering Mags to let me go and shag John Watson if he ever emerges from inside Holmes's trousers…"

Jim stared at him, shocked and raw like an exposed nerve and everything was too close and too much after being isolated in his head for so long. He felt hot and angry and scared, desperate. “You want a bite?” Jim purred in his ear, kissing him there and down to his jaw until Jim reached the column of his neck where he wrapped his lips around the skin and left a hickey there. Suddenly that ugly mix of feels he’d been repressing for months came roaring up as he felt Cyric’s pulse beat rapid and hot and strong against his lips and tongue. Jim snarled and bit down fiercely, using all of the strength he had to rend and rip and tear the skin of Cyric’s throat with his teeth. There was a hot rush of blood pouring over his face and into his mouth and down his neck onto his naked chest. Cyric thrashed but Jim held on tight with his teeth, destroying his jugular and trachea. Cyric’s final breaths rattled wetly in his lungs and Jim felt the moment when his heart stopped beating. Jim reached down and brushed the scarred letters that said ‘bitey whore’ written into his skin on his hip.

The screams were heard over most of the campus and the boys stopped, shocked. Moriarty, Magnussen and Darren were first to rush over, Darren practically breaking the lock open to push the door aside, his face twisting in shock as he saw the damage. Jim huddled ferally on the floor, Cyric twitching in a heap as the last of his blood pulsed out through his throat. Magnussen stared down, looking at the damage fascinated and then staring at Jim. His eyes narrowed as he approached, giving Cyric a small poke with his foot and then holding a hand out. "Stay back. I don't want any other irritating information on my crime scene. We'll have enough trouble getting Cyric's DNA out of the floor..." He looked at Jim, almost properly seeing him for the first time since he'd taken the young man on board. "That is the second person you've killed. Can you think of any reason why I'd employ a whore who goes around killing people? There are other people I employ for that…"

Cyric had died on top of Jim but he rolled the man off of him. Now he was crouched in front of Magnussen and his father and Darren, naked with blood covering his face and in his hair and dripping down his chest. His hands were still duct-taped together in front of him. It hurt too much to stand just yet and besides he wasn’t sure if his legs would hold him. “Stop giving me to people that hurt me and I’ll stop killing people.” Jim’s voice was rough and he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken out loud. Jim grinned and Cyric’s blood was coating the inside of his mouth and teeth. “He dared me to do it. He was an idiot and you don’t need someone like that working for you anyway.”

Darren was backing away, but Magnussen stepped forward sliding a finger along Jim's jawline and then looking fascinated at Cyric's blood before putting the finger delicately into his mouth and licking it off. "Nevertheless I cannot employ someone as a prostitute if they continue to murder my other employees. I'm afraid I will need to very strongly reevaluate your role within my organisation…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rape, murder in self defense.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Fighting, some violence. Depression and anxiety.


End file.
